Trees

Trees

I would write of Trees, what they mean to me.
I know there are places where they are a rarity.
But I live in a space, where trees predominate.
On these mountain slopes, by these rushing streams,
Along these foot-worn paths, they congregate.
Sometimes densely, at times alone,
In wordless state they stand,
Informing me of something I need to know.
For even as I see them on a daily basis,
Acknowledging their size and form,
I rarely take the time to greet them.
Instead I see them for their name,
Their colors, shade and shape;
As squirrels highways or rotting logs,
Instruments the winter winds do play on.
Yet there are moments that arise
When I see them with different eyes;
As individuals as individual as I,
Standing in their space, in all their grace,
Fellow travelers, albeit at a different pace,
They each have a story as varied
As the one you or I might carry.