Me and the Trees

I walk along aside the trees and look over as I pass these mighty beams,
bear with winter.
When did we build bridges over and through these trees,
neglecting to amble under and among them?

We walk to proudly upon the earth,
Thinking we own the dead brown leaves
That break our fall in a pile
When we trip over twigs
That crack under pressure
And sway freely in the wind--they are more free than you or I.

I softly, tenderly touch the skin of a passing tree, lingering to let our atoms meet
and I wonder:

When did we forget to take joy
In these subtle delights?
Why did we lose the ability
To sit quietly
Beside a brook
Without our things -- unplugged
No Ipod
No guitar
No pen and paper
No book
No GameBoy
No box of crackers
No bag of M&Ms
Just me
and the trees
resting beside the water.