Trees Bend In The Breeze Poem by Gert Strydom

Trees bend in the breeze,
the dead branch creaks under the force
that is moving it,
the eyes of the owl zoom in
searching for a prey

the sun fades, gets dimmer and dimmer
while it drops over the horizon
as the darkness creeps, creeps slowly in

and the moon raises silver
white in a star filled night
where a dazzling show
like on a Christmas tree appears
and hangs bright
with little twinkling lights

and the owl hoots, giving to some
its death call, to others a caring presence
and sleep sneaks into bodies, eyes and minds
and on this Christmas day the world is at peace.