The Dancing Trees by Michael Craig Kasper

There was a stand of trees
Where the road from work
Teed into the road home.
They would dance in the wind,
So close, their branches mingled,
If one moved, they all moved,
Choreographed.
I would sit at the light,
Waiting to turn, and watch them dance
Swaying and bobbing with the wind.
I would even time my arrival
to catch the red
So I could watch my dancing trees,
A minor celebration at the end of day.
And then they were gone,
Removed for a billboard
Trumpeting the arrival
Of a future slum.