poem of the day November 6 

I wonder what

all those trees

standing together 

day and night 

are really thinking? 

After many endless years 

with very little to do but

meditate on the great outdoors

do trees ever get bored?

Do they branch out

into other thoughts? 

Do they like

dawn  better 

than dusk?

Are trees divided

50-50?

or are they a united supermajority?

What do trees think

of being shot by guns?

Are trees racists?

Have trees ever

thought about war?