The Algorithm of the Wind Among the Leaves

It’s no mere chance the whisper that ascends,
when through the branches the wind unfolds,
a thousand green laminae, a rising sea it sends,
each one a point in an unknown design holds.

It is the invisible input shaping form,
a calculation needing no figure or book,
every stretched vein, every fold resisting storm,
an exact datum in continuous look.

And the final rustling, an unexpected melody,
a unique solution that never repeats its way,
a living equation in the open air to see,
the green algorithm woven by nature’s play.