The trees,

silhouettes of standing 

paintbrushes

and leaves spiral

through the air

as dark clouds paint

the landscape

with gray

and purple

with mighty strokes.

The wind sings melodies

into the rustling 

blades of green grass

and smooth stones

dot the meadow

like tears. 

My fingertips ache 

to grasp out and touch

but that can never be done

because 

this is all a dream.