No money for the ballet?
Sit outside on a breezy day,
Watch the movements of the trees,
All with their own personalities.

Erect and tall is the lead,
Two arms outstretched but curved to plead,
Pirouettes from a beauty bowing toward his chest,
She looks my way, I like that part best.

The ghoul in the mountain bent and gnarly,
Knots in his old body, eyes all surly,
Adding to the acting mystery,
Of the ballet dancing out history.

Juniper kneels down on the ground, saplings thin or poor,
You may see elves and animals move on the forest floor.
Violins play in the sound of the winds,
No tickets, you say, audience your friends.

By Norma (

Angel Oaks grow on the grounds of the Belfair Plantation
in Hilton Head, South Carolina.




Watch these pages for more poems by Norma.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.

The Purple Dark Of Night

The Mad March Hare

Empty Basket


Soft And Cuddly

The Moon Giggled

To Have Warm Hands


A new feature at Lara's Den is free E-cards. I make them and offer them to our visitors and authors.
Click the button to access the index.

And.......for many others, click the index image.

Graphics by Marilyn

The featured image is a Graphics by Marilyn photograph.