Trees (:

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Beyond that hilltop they stand.

Waiting so still, so paciently, and so mighty.

A gust of wind rips the leaves off of a branch. They sway back and fourth, back and fourth, still standing. Sure enough, the wind gives up sooner or later agataied by its failure.

The tree still stands on the hilltop pointing towards the heavens, looming over a neatly paved road, and surrounding a home. You at look at them, and it almost seems as if they look back.
Reaching their branches for support or comfort.
I now sit on my roof enclosed with hundreds of trees protecting me. I breathe in the rich air, and relax.
They make me feel safe, and welcome.





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