Chaotic gay shirt is a question I may ask myself during a morning stroll beneath the trees, with the cool air, and the sights, sounds, and smells of the county road bathed in the morning light. A slow pace is all that’s required, which gives time for reflection. Time to look at the trees. To really look at them, with their well-balanced branches reaching this way and that; angles of every degree. Dividing as they go up, decreasing in size but increasing in number and complexity. I realize that the trees are as alive as I am, though much older. They gently sway when the breeze comes through, but this morning they can rest. I wonder how many rings are hidden inside of their trunks, documenting the years as their roots push ever deeper into Mother Earth. How many trees coexist with these on our miracle planet?
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