West Desert Journal

With the wind,
Aspen leaves clap
in cheerful crowds.

Yet, their yellow bodies
barely cling
against winter air.

The Aspens creak,
like rusty wooden doors,
wood screeching against wood.

With the wind,
the trees move in waves
as grass in meadows.

Leaves clap and fall
from white painted branches.
The forest sings like rivers.

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw