The breeze arrives at the end of the day
like a maestro
bending branches, shaking limbs rustling leaves respond
like instruments’ begining to stir, rustling sheet music,
sliding chairs
each in turn, tuning to some unheard perfection
leaves softly brushing against windows
fronds lifting in the wind
loudest of the voices
bamboo clicking sounds
in the background a steady rhythm
gusts slow down there is silence
then wind picks up, moving a branch
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