DANCING LEAVES or AIR-BRAKES

Seeing the gentle Summer breeze
Changing the leaves' shades of green
A blind Zephyr feeling its way
Through the submissive heaving
Newly decked out, summer costumed trees
Recklessly flinging their arms through the air
Outside my double-glazed bathroom 
Green-house. I'm seeing
Sycamores…Scots Pine…Goat Willow
Rowan…re-assuring Oak…Silver Birch
And the name-less ones all swaying
At different speeds. The Scots Pine
Hardly moves. Almost quiet. Sentinel. 

Suddenly I feel
a fresh inner breeze
Turning over   a new leaf
Allowing me to fearlessly see
All the many various forms of fear
I've been blindly consulting
As I've been moving through deeper and deeper
Depths of alone-ness.   Brakes! Brakes!
Stale-air-brakes! I've been idiotically using
All the time!    Not fully on     mind
But ON!
O yes! Holding honest free movement BACK! Choosing
Self-centred trudging
Slugging…through vistas of endless stale slush
Ignoring my quickly smudged sun lit life. O Yes!

And these outside wild bouncing beauties?

If they had the choice
Would these life-giving prancing branches
Choose to stand as petrified posts
Inside
A stark…stale-air-braked safe as houses
Museum?