The Trees

They watch us, our soft toes moving here and there, our trunks bending with no reciprocation to the wind. We are larger than ants but more ephemeral, experimental. We are the children who are at risk. Our spines are akin to trunks, our limbs to branches, our heads to crowns. They adore, absorb our exhalations. We are part of the trees, and so part of the soil, the rock outcropping, and above, we are part of the cloud that descends eventually as rain, and beside the tree, we flow in the stream, into the lake, river and ocean. The trees watch us, ready to teach.