Ode to the Saraband

Do the trees
dance the Saraband?

That bawdy swaying, undulating
Couru?

Do they move in a poetic refrains
ethereal and celestial

peaking and weaving their trunks
whilst gesticulating madly?

Do the trees dance the Gigue?
Do they feel with their beings, lunging

and lambenting in the moonlight?
Do the trees dance the Tango?

Their great heaving limbs shouldering
and dipping in the wind?

Is their silence mere buffoonery?
feigning disinterest, whilst slipping out

surreptitiously to cavort with the heavens?
I think if they do dance, it is MUST BE the Saraband,

their grand leaves thrumming and thrusting, hems and skirts lilting lasciviously and oh so fervently, skimming scooping past the knees!