The trees sang their greens as if they were a choir in that cathedral of summery blue.
Deep roots taking cool water drafts, strong branches reaching into creation's community, the trees make a mockery of clocks that tick and instead invite the eye and soul to feel their sense of the expanded moment, to take root and reach as they do.
A jocund congregation of green waved in fragranced breeze, the lyrics of the trees, an ancient whispered song, sung for each passing soul.
Trees of sunlit caramel hues, infused with serene and earthy tones, adorn the rising hill and spread their great arms heavenward.
The Green Man is the guardian of the trees, we speak of him in so many cultures, the one who protects creation, who sees the wisdom in the cycle of living from death to rebirth.
The trees send their green glow into the ether, their calming perfume, their oxygen enriched air. How their roots spread into an embrace of the earth and their branches ever upward, embracing the heavens.
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