A lightness, a dance
Is all that romance
An evening discourse
If you happen to chance

The swaying of trees
Is all that is needed
Just floating in air
For us to be pleased

Ne'er break nor bruise
But growing from roots
Don't save for a vase
Or petals removed

No pruning shears
Large hands severe
To repot or sprout 
Our tender shoots out

Grow wild on our plain
Only sun, moon and rain
To cover us over 
For love will remain