the wind blowing through the trees
oak and pine intermingled
creating a unique sound
the low rustle accompanied by the high wind.
The craziness falls away
becoming as meaningless as running for a streetcar.
We are meant to be dreamers,
dreamers that energize their thoughts with actions:
The hard stuff,
the hours of making it right
and sometimes, in the end,
we get this
a sanctuary for the spirit.
A night of quietness
before returning to the jumble and rush of the city.