I admire the poetry of the wind

I admire the poetry of the wind
From a memorial park bench. Beneath
The shade of a hundred-year-old oak tree,
I love the timbre of its voice through the
Yellow summer grass; around my sneakers,
Like it would lift me away if it could.
Swallow me in the warm pastels of sun-
Set, against a backdrop of half-lit stars.

And I admire the poetry of you
From a newly budded Japanese maple.
Breaking down the stage after a long dull day,
Then watching the constellations with me.