Trees

I think about trees a lot – the way they seem so at peace. Unhurried.

That towering pine tunnels its roots deep into the ground. Grounded.

Yet up top, the foliage flutters freely in the breeze. 

Those leaves tickle and shimmer, sway and flutter. Trees are free – free to move and be. 

But they’re grounded too. Solid. 

I think about how trees are born to live. 

All their lives

they grow.

Up, up into the sky. 

And they keep living

until Nature says they must die. 

We. meanwhile exhaust ourselves, strain our limits, because we refuse to be content. 

And eventually we die

not because Nature chose our time

but because our bodies grew weary – wary – of the strain. 

A weary heart that one day

Gives out. ~

Perhaps, we should be more like trees.