Waterfall in the Trees

On Telegraph Hill, early one very windy Sunday morning in July. I tried to capture the movement of the leaves in the photo, but you might have to use your imagination a little!

I am sitting on a path,
sheltering at the edge of a wood.
Listening to a full wind
in the hill-top woodland.

Waterfall.

The constant thunderous under-current
of water upon water,
leaves upon leaves.
The tree tops are in turmoil
swaying, crashing, pounding.
Leaves are upturned, twisting
with silvery backs, shimmering,
and fluttering;
holding on tight.
And a delicate spray:
the gentle swaying
of grasses and leaves
at my level.

Waves of sound
as the trees all move
together, a body in unison.
Graceful, yet with a sense of unease
and destruction of the weak.
Ash, Sycamore, Beech and Hazel;
the wind and the sound
both unseen, invisible and awesome
an erotic gathering of the senses.