As I sit beneath this towering pine,

I wonder what it would be like if trees could talk.

Would their souls pour out in relief after so many cooped up years?

Or maybe they would laugh at all the passer-bys that never knew they were being watched.

While laughing and sighing are just warm thoughts entertained by imagination,

I'm afraid the real first words would  in fact be curses.

Curses blurted out to all who dare label themselves children of Mother Earth.

Or part of her family at all.

All those who didn't have that extra second to reach to the trash can,

And those who let their smoky addictions eliminate our oxygen.

Emptiness fills me as I realize the cold, harsh truth of the world I live in. 

The breath of factories and cough of cigarettes permeate the air.

Did the fragrance of the flowers dissipate?

Or was it just forgotten?

What has happened to this world I live in?

I sure wish trees could talk.

Sarah Shackelford