It's not about the trees.

I'm still adjusting to living somewhere new, and walking around this city tonight made me realize a bit just what I'm learning.

You know it's strange, the trees here are so different. They're spikey, and impulsive- like so many gangly teenagers- always reaching spikey-fingered upwards. Aching greedily, they grab more sky, and more and more. I don't remember trees back home doing any of that. They were calmer, brushing downwards, stable-like and generous. They nodded deeply in the winds, satisfied that we were so lost.

The snow here covers the forks and joining places like scrambling toddlers cover the knees of patient uncles.. and the bows don't break. Back home, one little ice-storm laid fields of tree-bits scattered like confetti.

So maybe there's a bit more here than trees. Maybe it's less that they're different, and more that I am. Perhaps being satisfied doesn't teach you to be strong, and the trials that come with ambition do.