The ghost trees.

I have been walking for days now and I am exhausted. The air has the dewy smell of dawn and all I want is to depart in its pale blue mist. My knees buckle and I collapse into the damp grass, engulfed by its wilderness. My eyes are heavenward but I can barely keep them open. I feel the breath of the living earth on my cheeks, but the silent sounds of the dead haunts me.

I feel ready and calm, and as I’m just about open my eyes the sudden sound of air whispering through the branches of trees captures me momentarily. It’s as though I have fallen into a dream. I lift my eyes to the sky to find that there are no trees at all. But I can hear the soft clatter of their leaves? The creaking of their ancient wood? I sit up and I can no longer smell the dampness of the morning. I can only see the shadows of the trees that used to be there.