Towering over are shade creators

Basking in glory of the sun

We stand small but are the nominaters

Trees stay still and never done

The wind whispers storys around

branches stirring in admiration

Story’s bounce around with hardly a sound

We stand short in gods creation.

The whispers of the trees are so quiet

Although mighty, and all knowing

We stand short and unseeing

The wisdom around us taken as mere crowing

Everything is known and in the Erie quiet

Booms of thunder roll in rage

Life is empty unless story’s fulfilled

We stand warned but turn it down with a wave

An annoyance to us is a key to the world

The way of all things is the way unheard

Thunder dies in desperate attempts

We turn it down with a hiss

Dying whispers of longing travel coldly

We dismiss it as a breeze, a minor inconvenience

As the world lets out a final word a word of love

We watch it die with grins so wide.

Through our wrath we enjoy the fall

Of natures finale dying call

It calls for us its children back

Calls of love for any and all

Something so powerful dies beneath us

Our evil eyes ignoring wisdoms burn

And in its loss we grow desperate

Our once evil eyes are filled with tears

As our own selfish needs are no where near

We killed our hope without its fruits.

Forever lost we have no roots.