Dancing endlessly.

It’s a very windy day. Downright blustery. The fir tree branches are performing. Before my eyes. A frolicsome dance. I don’t dance. In the traditional sense. Lacking the physical aptitude.  But I make up for it. With an unleashed imagination. Feeling the rhythm of the dance. In my soul.  I’ve embraced the fir trees. I’m whirling. Whirling. Dancing. Dancing endlessly.  –Jim Broede