I have rough-textured branches. No leaves remain in the sharp sticks. I have no feet; only roots. The roots remain attached to the ground; soaking up soil like plush sponges. It’s wintertime now; the ground’s powdered with snow. Despite not being frozen, my stature remains stiff, still. What am I? I am…a tree.
I feel so bad. It’s terrible that I, a tree, must stay outside in this frost-ridden cold! I mean, why can’t us trees stay inside and those seemingly lucky humans stay outside?! All they do is laugh, warming themselves in that metallic box they call “a fireplace”. All I have to do is stand here and say “Brrr, it’s cold!” Wait, a fireplace?! How do those humans get their fuel? Oh, no, it’s from detached parts of branches; of trees!!!! Oh, I hope mine won’t be next! Every time night casts its shadow, those humans come. Many of my fellow trees glance at the humans quietly while they remain snapped, dethatched from the calm earthy ground. Must move, must leave; anything to get away.
Great! I’m stuck on the ground. Of course, trees don’t have legs! They have roots. My only job is to collect the soil; purifying my branches/well-being. That feels very good, pleasurable! Yet, a shame I can’t move on human “legs”; as they call them. Oh, now, frost remains embedded in me. My branches are shaking now; yelling at the sky, the world. I actually used to have branches. They fluttered peacefully like butterflies; painted in red, orange, yellow colors. They released airs of happiness and warmth. Yet now, the bitter cold has forced me to produce nothing! I remain entrapped in its dark, desolate prison; bound with icy chains! I feel so sad, afraid; afraid my life would be cut off before the marching of spring….