Trees

Months ago I filled out this ominous statement builder:

“The trees are gone when you look away. Prepare, they’ll whisper you your fate.”

I thought my statement was cool, and so now, finally, months later, I wrote a poem. It’s called “Trees” respectively.

Enjoy!

The trees are gone when you look away.

They make no sound when you don't wait.

So turn back around. Listen. Look.

The trees have secrets. They're like open books.

They have stories and memories.

From the deserts to the mountains.

From the forests to the seas.

If you move too fast you'll miss the tales.

They can come on breezes, gusts and even on gales.

So stand. Be still before the trees.

Let yourself go. And when you're ready, ask.

The trees will always answer. Are you up for the task?

You must be empty; open and ready to absorb.

At any time of day. Deep into the night, or early in the morn.

Will you hear their reply?

Ground your feet firmly and await.

Prepare, they'll whisper you your fate.