GloMag GloMagMarch2019 - Page 175

FOREST BROOK Green blossoms droop in the blaze. Does the pitiless sun drain them of all hope with its scorching rays? They quake in repressed agony. The aroma of asphalt slowly moving In to suck the sap; Trees, stately and daring the skies bear an uncanny fear in their hearts; Even their shadows appear mortal! They harbor an unexpressed message - 175