She felt a kinship with the trees…
Them in uncountable numbers…
But solitary, unspeaking, unmoving…
Swaying to the poetry the wind sang for the skies….
Quietly diffusing the air with life…
Demanding nothing… receiving nothing….
Theirs was a life lived strangely…
Did they ever speak to each other she wondered…
They displayed how words were superflous…
How you could just live and die…
How you could even be somebody’s life breath…
But how what is all turned to be…
Did not really matter….

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