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,
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.