I don't think I've written a poem in 15 years, but this morning I penned something (poem?) that I'm thinking of workshopping at writers' group this week.
Any feedback welcome!

Reflections
The rise & fall of the wind swells like the ocean
Trees dance in the wet morning
A pulsing symphony of movement
Sway, swing, surge,
Quiver, throb.
Can you see each tree?
One majestic, another splayed;
One simple, another lush
Some stiff & cramped;
Others more delicate, but flexible.
I can’t
I can’t see them apart.
I can only see them connected.
Centuries of feeding off one another’s rhythm
They continue their dance.
All except--
Wait, I spot a tree apart.
It’s not dancing with the others
It’s the one with no life left.