I see trees out there, monstrous trees, kind trees, soft trees, loving trees, all kinds of trees. Odd to describe trees this way, but are they all not those things and more? The ultimate mothers, they cast their green nets at the sun all day toiling, to harvest every drop of light, and with a secret hidden gentleness carry it like a child, one photon at at time, one electron at time, down rivers of physics to make sweets for you and me.

There there, always there, just there all day while we rove around our world killing, living, loving, hating, cutting them down, raising them up.

There there, always there, witnesses to armies coming and going, to storms and sun.

No legs to walk on, or eyes to see, no ears to hear, just hands reaching out for light as if in prayer. Sometimes I feel like you want to run away. And you are at odds with your roots quite dug in, deep, branched, strong. You pull up, they pull down. Where do they want to go? Away, away from something as if? Moving upwards into the heavens, moving downwards into darkness, one side a lover of light, the other of darkness, One side an extrovert, the other an introvert.

Trees, embodiment of patience and resilience. Attender of your own funeral every year, watcher of your own death. The winters come harsh and murderous bullying you into quiet solitude. Naked are your branches, dead your children. But the memory is there, I can see you are holding on to the ghosts of leaves around the branches. Through snow you hold on, along with brethren and sisters. There, there, waiting.

Oh the joy you show when spring finally arrives. How bright green supple leaves spring forth from awakening branches, ready to make light into sweets again. The sugar high manifests in the sea of leaves that come forth eagerly.

Trees, thank you for your sweets. And thank you for the air I breathed while writing to you.