• The breeze of the cold winter day flushed against my dried bark. Barren, lonely, depressing. I watch as grey smoke clouds hover over the blue skies and the smell of gas fills the beautiful clean air. Its as if all the color of my earth has been revoked right from the roots, as all the trees leave one by one then increasingly hundred by hundreds. I stand here with only tree stubs to accompany my thoughts and fire ants begging for one last drop of water. My branches slowly move in the wind creating a sad whistle going into the distance with nothing in the way like plants of life to sweeten the tune. If only the humans and I saw this future coming to destroy this earth and take over our lush green forests... it would have been so different and safer. I wish we could have listened and saw the warnings coming... I don't want to stand still in favor of the humans air, watching the land die out and watch the yellow sun slowly turning grey, but I will. Because I am a tree, a tree with a job.