Brushing gently
Across small shards of verdant life.
Spinning, whirling,
They whisper to each other.
Apollo’s arrows pierce through
Dappling the ground,
Maestros of a waltz
Of light and shadow.
Slender arms reach up
Naively grasping at the sky
As their torso nestles closer
to warm earth.
How can something so ancient
be so alive?
This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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