I have always liked

The look

The smell

The touch of trees

Old or young

Frosted

Naked

Barren

With or without leaves

I like their shape

Their form

Their fruit

Their spawn

I like the way they grow

Tall sharp and upright

Buckled or bent

Blown and hewn

Not manicured or sawn

I like their roots

The way they

Spread, rise

Contorted and worn

Every branch, twig and thorn

A bark that’s gnarled

Ridged, flaked

With a skin of horn

I like trees

In a forest

In a copse

Standing in a grove

Huddled on a hill

In a field

All alone

The way they Breath

Creaking in and out

Back and forth

Knowing with the wind

How and when to yield

I like trees

Stripped or in green flush

Always present

Even when fallen

Decaying and moulding

Never giving up

Still giving all they‘ve got