A Mirror Floating in Water

I see that the rain is coming down
as I sit from above
and see it pilt the windowsill
(but only slightly)
I listen to the tunes of Ellington
and the ecstasies of the 20s’
with the trees in the wind frivently
dancing to the airs of the blows
within each ear, as the wind hesitates
mumbles, stumbling on trying to find its own tune
Oh the partyhall of dancers, may it be
the carousing trees, drunk as they are
With wind they must flare and move
to the gracious, but sometimes grandiose beat,
but soon stop once the beat stops
and there comes a slight applause