Do you think the trees feel?

As the clouds permanently part and the sun’s light hugs each trunk,

do you think they feel the days that are as radiant as an undying candle 

and as warm as the core of its flame?

These are the days where the dirt below our feet can breathe.

These are the days where the leaves on each branch can dream of a life long-lived.

Yet as the sun creeps to another horizon,

the leaves will crystallize into a brittle glass—fragile with abrasive, unforgiving edges.

And if the trees are aware, does it hurt 

to shed the coat that protects them?

Or maybe they’re okay with the clean air 

and the silence that fills the snow.

Maybe their naked branches greet the 

barren space with open arms, knowing the subtle flame will grow again soon.

But if they can feel, are the trees truly okay with the end?

Or do they simply hang on for the moment, finding comfort in a new beginning?