Winter Ballet

[Today’s prompt challenged me to write in a way and style different than my usual.]

Through the wooden panelled window I watch the woodwind ballet:
Stage center, front, the still-leaved Japanese maple prima ballerina, not meant for these climes,
clings to frozen sunset leaves that quiver to the wind’s allegro beat.
Behind her, a proud Leland cypress danseur noble lifts high his green needles
not caring that he is an unnatural hybrid –
not the familiar cross between two species, but a wilder cross between two genera –
like crossing a dog and cat, my horticultural husband tells me.
I shrug, only somewhat interested in horticultural facts but fascinated by the forest dance.
Japanese maple and Leland cypress sway together as if ready for a pas de deux grand lift.
Further back, a bare limbed taller oak extends graceful empty arms towards the strangely partnered principals:
the Japanese maple with its clinging leaves and the Leland cypress with its proud needles –
the transplant and the hybrid who claim center stage in my picture pane ballet.
The mighty oak, a true character artist, dances on its own
while derrière ,the young corps de ballet, slim, loose limbed oaks and maples,
execute their flawless port de bras, eschew bravura, awaiting their years as principals,
growing into their strength, their rhythm, their aplomb
as the musical wind continues to chime through the winter day
while I, cozy in my center stage seat, sip my tea and enjoy the virtuoso performance.

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