the trees are talking to me again
i ask them: tell me no lies?
they say they do not know what a lie is
and i breathe in a sigh of relief
as the cold wind blows through my hair
and whips around their branches
across crystalline blue skies
i gaze in awe of their beauty
and wonder if everyone saw them
through my eyes would they continue
to chop off their limbs, sever their roots
would they continue to clear the land of them
if they noticed the stories they had to tell
the trees are talking to me again
and i fear i am the only one left
who will listen