The trees are eyelashes, curling over the lonesome, slinking roads. One wonders of their gloominess when it rains and joy when it shines over its own horizon. The green fades with the shower's exposure, yet still captures some hope when hugging the hill. There is one tree after another, huddling for warmth in the Washington weather. When they are all together, they emit a smell of pine and rain water that makes a nose sniff, but a mouth smile because of its sweet scent. The hope found in this patch of trees is imaginable, because they reach the sky touching clouds but wanting the heavens. I want to reach out with them, the atmosphere changes along with my own. One might study their textbook page on an autumn night then find themselves studying the miracle of nature and personifying their ways to ours. They're a family of trees, having a dinner of rain and sunshine looking in on us and wondering the things that we do about them. When looking out this window, the thing that catches any eye is the delegate among the trees, the red tree. It separates her branches from her trunk beautifully and gracefully. The red willow confers with the community of foliage by swaying with them against the mighty wind, When has a conversing ever been so beautiful?

As I look back down at my papers again, I realize a lifetime has gone by and everything is the same.

Life can be beautiful, simplicity can be beautiful.