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The Trees

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It was a Thursday and the trees were tall.
The sky was clear.
I smelled the damp forest as a breeze blew through my open window.
It stormed last night and we lost power for a while.
I knew it was those damn trees.
They smile at me in the dark.
They taunt me in the night.
Intimidate me as they tower over me, stretching into the sky.
Stretching into the sky as far up as I could see
Without being blinded by the sun.
I take pictures of the trees, but nobody believes me.
Their eyes glow. Their metal shimmers.
They have a temper and want to get even with me.
I take pictures of the trees, but nobody sees them.
And after work I go into my shed.
They stand at the small window, trying to sneak a peak.
I work and work, trying to show everyone what I see.
I can see the trees at my window.
They tease me like schoolchildren.
I walk out of my shed.
The trees shook with laughter.
I venture into the forest, axe in hand.
I just want someone to believe me.





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