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Trees bend in the breeze
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.
poem
by
Gert Strydom
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