Trees all stand in line, they are summoned to the parade call. Chunks of stumps lie on the ground Picking up chips to fly at sticks. Reminds me of spinning shells across the sea. The wings of birds dot the sky Changing direction by the currents they fly. In comes the rain and the mist from the sea, spreading inland as far as one can see. Seen in it's raw state, rugged beauty up and down. The sun and moon hide their gait They discuss their positions and keep away.