The tree

The leave they sway in the wind like hands waving in time
The branches the twist and turn as the passes of paths
The bark is rough like the stones on a path
The birds they cheep as like the people in the streets
As the sun beats down on the crisp green leave the butterflies warm in the summer breeze
Each little ant as it climbs up the bark chooses each grove like a life choice on there path
The nest in the branches it home for the birds as they grow old and have kids of there own
Each tree has a different tale as each one never grows the same set of branch

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