I sometimes wonder the life of a tree hovering ever so tall shading the forest floor from scorching. I sometimes wonder what they have seen if they could see at all.

The love lust couple sneaking deep into the forest’s depths to conceal their sprouting emotions when they link lips for the first time sending satisfying volts from head to toe as they peak before tumbling into the grasp of heartbreak.

The couple that persevered through the distance and the fights entering the maze of trees to find the one to carve their names dragging the knife deep into the outer shield without concern for the bleeding bark now maimed and unable to effectively deliver necessary sugars.

The lonely wanderer seeking refuge from a booming, fast-paced society riddled with politics and hate with hopes of returning to a peaceful state with the help of the natural world.

The little boy and his mutt prancing through the trails mapping out new territories to conquer with every abutting root accounted for and that same little boy ten years later returning home to bid farewell and lay the mutt to rest in the protective custody of the concealed roots wrapping around the dog’s body soaking up his sacrificial nutrients.

The group of tourists accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city-life eager to venture to the outskirts where the vegetation runs wild to experience the rough life like they see on survival television shows only to be disappointed by the stillness of the atmosphere.

The insomniac who finds solitude in traveling by the guidance of the stars even though they cast shadows to spook and save the tired soul from drifting into the unforgiving danger lurking just out of sight.

The man dressed in navy come to bear devastating news to a now grieving mother because her son had died at the hands of the enemy overseas—her knees wobbled and collapsed as tears pooled and poured down her cheek leaving clean lines like meandering streams after many years of constant water flow.

The toddler cringing her toes as she experiences the soft tickles of grass fingers swaying with the wind forcing her to release repetitive giggles that fill the air causing her parents lips to crescent upwards.

I sometimes wonder what the trees have seen of me—my triumphs, my failures, my hopes and my dreams. I sometimes wonder if I have made them proud enough to keep producing the oxygen necessary to keep life moving forward. I sometimes wonder if they have seen enough to be proud or disheartened as the world morphs every day.