Dionysian Dance
Awakening Winds
Sucked dry by drought, my stand of trees
shrieks like maenads crazed with wine
when Santa Ana winds assault.
Their sires and whipping saplings moan
and frenzied limbs pound on my home
for three anarchic days of dance
that cease when twisting crowns bow down.
Inspired by Bacchic spins and tunes,
some trees burst buds to snowy blooms.
__________________
Ralph
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