He sat in her tree watching as she started to wake-up. He’d never have the guts to talk to her, so he’d sit every night staring at her sleeping form. By the time she would wake up, he’d be gone. And they’d have another day where they don’t talk. She doesn’t even know he exists.
Trees. Let’s see. They’re silly things. A symbol of change and cycle that we learn about as young children, sitting in tiny desks, learning about the world around us. The leaves grow, and then they fall. The branches are bare, and then the leaves grow back. It’s silly really, that we associate them with change, when they do the same thing every year.
Trees up in the trees stare at the sky, falling from the trees as leaves from a tree. Be all you can be hanging in a tree. Don’t you see? Trees, trees, trees!
The magical beauty, frolicking thin. Did mother nature?..is this what she had intended for us? What we do everyday. The swift leaves run with the wind. Smiling along the way they shine…or is beauty just a lie?
Mr.Staton used to grow “trees.” Everybody knows that he really grew weed. Well, atleast I knew. Why else would he have a constant set of chink eyes? Why else would he be 300 pounds? 50 years of the munchies can do that to a guy, ya know?
We can’t live without them. I think people should stop killing them, if they would like oxygen. I like trees with blossoms and fruit. especially apple trees.
Ah the trees. Tall do they set, far above the rest. Humbly the exist without consciousness and yet they preside with a dignity. Unless you found yourself below them as an insignificant blade of grass that can hope and hope but never be like a mighty tree.
They stand tall and united against the rains and winds that try to dominate them but ultimately fail.
I would love to climb a tree but I’ve always been too scared. What if I fall? Taking pictures of tree’s though, that’s what I love to do. They are beautiful. I wish I could draw because I would only draw tree’s. I’ve tried but it’s never worked.
There are many different kinds of trees. Big trees. Small trees. Trees that are good for climbing, and those that are not. Some trees tower high above, sheltering the animals within. Every single tree is different but most of them are green. The trees that are green sometimes die when snow comes. Some trees are used to celebrate holidays. I once had a big Christmas tree that would not die. Have you ever had a Christmas tree that would not die?
The t in tree makes me think of the trunk… and s makes me think of the curvy branches and all the tall beauty that they have. They are interesting and full of positive things and they can make animals feel tall! I like trees.
A baby tree, newly planted, is already bigger than me. Much bigger. How much more will this single unmoving tree see than me, without really trying? Some are born lucky I guess.
Lying under the big elm tree and reading. But not reading. Because the book is boring. instead I’m thinking about how incredibly unkosher it is to read while sitting under a still living tree. Like eating a cheeseburger while petting a cow.
Trees in the wind, their leaves spinning round and round. Yellow, orange red green spinning downwards. And I just watch, and smile. All beautiful things come to an end eventually I guess.
Trees. We don’t even notice these great witnesses. These posts have seen history, life and death. They are great advisers, if you know how to listen to them…
I’ll never forget the first time I saw the trees. They loomed over me as I walked past, leaves whispering about my soiled clothes as, slowly, the heel on my shoe began to finally break loose.
Finally, I heard a voice, murmuring my name. I turned back toward the trees and saw the face.
The trees seemed so green that morning, with the sunlight bouncing off the dew that sat atop the leaves. For the trees reached so high, and the sun touched so low, it made the world sparkle, just a little more so.
Do you wake up with ideas crowding into your head, all reaching out for the finite sunlight? Such tall giants. Standing proud and straight and inspiring in adoration, but hewn down in a moment of focused contemplation like grains of sand washed down a shower drain by a rush of cold water.
The colors were breathtaking, orange and gold and yellow and blazing crimson. She walked across the bridge, staring at the reflection in the water. The water seemed to burn with the intensity of the hues. Why don’t humans die so beautifully?
i like trees, you wanna know why? because they’re the reason we live. THEY GIVE US AIR! i dont think anyone else in the world can do that. they also give us paper, which makes my day go round. eekk! i am now a forever tree hugger, you should join me because i like trees.
The trees were sickly in their demeanor, seen as pale against the deep indigo of the twilight sky. Their leaves were frail reminders of the grandeur that they once were, and the branches were pale and twisted. It was almost a mockery of the great structure that had once stood.
The fall air makes them whisper and crinkle. They sit on top of the steep hill, overlooking the dozens of cars that pass beneath them, bearing students who dawdle and dream.
there are people who live in trees and think about the way the wind blows their hair. I have always aspired to just be able to think about the wind in my hair day after day on top of trees
Trees are full of life. Big, green and leafy pieces of nature. They breath and help us breath. In trees fruits grow. Trees make everything look better. Every landscape looks better if there are trees on it. Seasons are shown in trees. Who has not seen a beatiful fall in its redish colors, or a bright white winter. Who has not felt happier just by smelling the sweet scent of spring, or feeling the hot breeze of summer. Trees makes us happy.
The trees. I’m so fucking sick of the trees. The tapping, screeching, and moaning. I lie awake every night, feeling this horrible rage, wishing and praying for a chainsaw. The trees…
trees are green. they produce oxygen. i would quite like to live in a big tree with an owl. trees make me feel safe, unless someones shouting “timberrrr!”. trees.
branching, beautiful. They are a warm place to nestle in and a cool place to lie in the shade of. They live and die and live again, just as humans wish they could.
trees have green leaves that change colors in the fall. They start out really small and then grow to be big and tall. Sometimes the trees do not have leaves, they have needles, that stay various shades of green all year long.
the trees grew so slowly. every year, i would go to check on them, only to find the same puny sprouts staring back up at me. what does this meanfhjkafnkdi fucking hate writing right now. i feel so shitty., i want to chop my funcking head off. i am done with this shit
The wind blew softly through the tall oak trees. I felt the wind on my face and remembered playing in my grandma’s front yard. I thought of climbing the trees, feeling the cold hard branches scratch my skin and the exhiliration when I reached the top. I thought of how in life i let that adventure, that carefree nature leave me and wondered if I could find it again. Could I become that person again? Could I reach up to the lowest branch and take a risk? Could I climb the tree and never look down at the ground? I watched as a leaf slowly fell from teh tree and sighed I knew that I was to fearful to fall, to scared to try, to stuck to dare…and yet the trees beckoned to me.
Piano-playing trees from down in the ghetto blocked the garage for a week. We danced and sang until we were so tired, we fell on their roots and slept. When we woke, the trees were gone, just whispers through the garage windows, branches tickling the panes. I loved the songs, but only the rats know what they mean.
He sat in her tree watching as she started to wake-up. He’d never have the guts to talk to her, so he’d sit every night staring at her sleeping form. By the time she would wake up, he’d be gone. And they’d have another day where they don’t talk. She doesn’t even know he exists.
Trees. Let’s see. They’re silly things. A symbol of change and cycle that we learn about as young children, sitting in tiny desks, learning about the world around us. The leaves grow, and then they fall. The branches are bare, and then the leaves grow back. It’s silly really, that we associate them with change, when they do the same thing every year.
Trees up in the trees stare at the sky, falling from the trees as leaves from a tree. Be all you can be hanging in a tree. Don’t you see? Trees, trees, trees!
The magical beauty, frolicking thin. Did mother nature?..is this what she had intended for us? What we do everyday. The swift leaves run with the wind. Smiling along the way they shine…or is beauty just a lie?
Mr.Staton used to grow “trees.” Everybody knows that he really grew weed. Well, atleast I knew. Why else would he have a constant set of chink eyes? Why else would he be 300 pounds? 50 years of the munchies can do that to a guy, ya know?
We can’t live without them. I think people should stop killing them, if they would like oxygen. I like trees with blossoms and fruit. especially apple trees.
Beyond the trees a vision of a better you and me rises in mystery.
Ah the trees. Tall do they set, far above the rest. Humbly the exist without consciousness and yet they preside with a dignity. Unless you found yourself below them as an insignificant blade of grass that can hope and hope but never be like a mighty tree.
They stand tall and united against the rains and winds that try to dominate them but ultimately fail.
I would love to climb a tree but I’ve always been too scared. What if I fall? Taking pictures of tree’s though, that’s what I love to do. They are beautiful. I wish I could draw because I would only draw tree’s. I’ve tried but it’s never worked.
Growing wildly along the hills like weeds. The show no mercy to the grass as they dominate the hills. Animals look up tothe humbly and respectfully.
There are many different kinds of trees. Big trees. Small trees. Trees that are good for climbing, and those that are not. Some trees tower high above, sheltering the animals within. Every single tree is different but most of them are green. The trees that are green sometimes die when snow comes. Some trees are used to celebrate holidays. I once had a big Christmas tree that would not die. Have you ever had a Christmas tree that would not die?
The t in tree makes me think of the trunk… and s makes me think of the curvy branches and all the tall beauty that they have. They are interesting and full of positive things and they can make animals feel tall! I like trees.
A baby tree, newly planted, is already bigger than me. Much bigger. How much more will this single unmoving tree see than me, without really trying? Some are born lucky I guess.
Lying under the big elm tree and reading. But not reading. Because the book is boring. instead I’m thinking about how incredibly unkosher it is to read while sitting under a still living tree. Like eating a cheeseburger while petting a cow.
Trees in the wind, their leaves spinning round and round. Yellow, orange red green spinning downwards. And I just watch, and smile. All beautiful things come to an end eventually I guess.
trees are all over the place and they are green and they are pretty and i love trees, they smell good, and some are of pine, trees are beautiful.
Trees. We don’t even notice these great witnesses. These posts have seen history, life and death. They are great advisers, if you know how to listen to them…
I’ll never forget the first time I saw the trees. They loomed over me as I walked past, leaves whispering about my soiled clothes as, slowly, the heel on my shoe began to finally break loose.
Finally, I heard a voice, murmuring my name. I turned back toward the trees and saw the face.
trees make me feel like u can breath everytime u want cause that make u feel that our air is ful of magic and purity
Strong. Vibrant. Loving. Life. Coexistent. Home. Brave. Inspiring…
nature’s explosion.
wind ruffles.
rain pelts.
branches snap.
it’s typhoon komapsu.
stare in awe.
The trees seemed so green that morning, with the sunlight bouncing off the dew that sat atop the leaves. For the trees reached so high, and the sun touched so low, it made the world sparkle, just a little more so.
trees stone the lot of the mosters daring the closets to jump
into her and to ony want this and hair stands in red when the pot is left to boil
I like to walk through a grove of trees on a warm, sunny day. Even if the pollen does tickle my nose. It’s something I find very relaxing.
Upon Waking
Do you wake up with ideas crowding into your head, all reaching out for the finite sunlight? Such tall giants. Standing proud and straight and inspiring in adoration, but hewn down in a moment of focused contemplation like grains of sand washed down a shower drain by a rush of cold water.
The colors were breathtaking, orange and gold and yellow and blazing crimson. She walked across the bridge, staring at the reflection in the water. The water seemed to burn with the intensity of the hues. Why don’t humans die so beautifully?
i like trees, you wanna know why? because they’re the reason we live. THEY GIVE US AIR! i dont think anyone else in the world can do that. they also give us paper, which makes my day go round. eekk! i am now a forever tree hugger, you should join me because i like trees.
The trees were sickly in their demeanor, seen as pale against the deep indigo of the twilight sky. Their leaves were frail reminders of the grandeur that they once were, and the branches were pale and twisted. It was almost a mockery of the great structure that had once stood.
The fall air makes them whisper and crinkle. They sit on top of the steep hill, overlooking the dozens of cars that pass beneath them, bearing students who dawdle and dream.
there are people who live in trees and think about the way the wind blows their hair. I have always aspired to just be able to think about the wind in my hair day after day on top of trees
Trees are full of life. Big, green and leafy pieces of nature. They breath and help us breath. In trees fruits grow. Trees make everything look better. Every landscape looks better if there are trees on it. Seasons are shown in trees. Who has not seen a beatiful fall in its redish colors, or a bright white winter. Who has not felt happier just by smelling the sweet scent of spring, or feeling the hot breeze of summer. Trees makes us happy.
The trees. I’m so fucking sick of the trees. The tapping, screeching, and moaning. I lie awake every night, feeling this horrible rage, wishing and praying for a chainsaw. The trees…
trees are green. they produce oxygen. i would quite like to live in a big tree with an owl. trees make me feel safe, unless someones shouting “timberrrr!”. trees.
branching, beautiful. They are a warm place to nestle in and a cool place to lie in the shade of. They live and die and live again, just as humans wish they could.
I sit in the park under the Arch
looking up 5th Avenue.
There is so much opportunity around me.
But instead I shall stay here
staring at the crowds
watching the sun filter through the trees.
trees have green leaves that change colors in the fall. They start out really small and then grow to be big and tall. Sometimes the trees do not have leaves, they have needles, that stay various shades of green all year long.
the trees grew so slowly. every year, i would go to check on them, only to find the same puny sprouts staring back up at me. what does this meanfhjkafnkdi fucking hate writing right now. i feel so shitty., i want to chop my funcking head off. i am done with this shit
the trees fell, loudly. we heard it from the cabin, and it startled us. i fear the worst. he’s going to check. i hope he comes back.
The wind blew softly through the tall oak trees. I felt the wind on my face and remembered playing in my grandma’s front yard. I thought of climbing the trees, feeling the cold hard branches scratch my skin and the exhiliration when I reached the top. I thought of how in life i let that adventure, that carefree nature leave me and wondered if I could find it again. Could I become that person again? Could I reach up to the lowest branch and take a risk? Could I climb the tree and never look down at the ground? I watched as a leaf slowly fell from teh tree and sighed I knew that I was to fearful to fall, to scared to try, to stuck to dare…and yet the trees beckoned to me.
Piano-playing trees from down in the ghetto blocked the garage for a week. We danced and sang until we were so tired, we fell on their roots and slept. When we woke, the trees were gone, just whispers through the garage windows, branches tickling the panes. I loved the songs, but only the rats know what they mean.