• So What?



    A breeze ran through the small town, tickling trees, their leaves rustling against each other, dancing. The chimes sung throughout the still sky, for the precious sound of enchantment, it couldn’t be heard.

    What was heard was the sickening sound of tires, the sneer honks and the selfish yells.
    Greater things were ignored, and what really mattered came to their ears, while others came through the other.

    The trees entertained themselves and the chimes were noise.
    Something you can’t see can’t tickle leaves, and chimes don’t sing… they’re both simply being, and they’re just just.

    The trees can’t dance; they careen from the pressure the winds created upon they’re branches. The trees aren’t dancing. They’re only moving.

    Who would care about trees and the way they move anyway? And how the chimes make that jangling sound you hear in the spring? What do they do for us? They were nothing special, and nothing worth noticing. So what if the leaves move a little in the wind, and so what if the metal things tied to strings make a sound? So what?

    It didn’t matter.