Better learn not to talk to me. You shake the tree, a leopard’s gonna fall out.
Colored lights blink on and off, racing across the green boughs. Their reflections dance across exquisite glass globes and splinter into shards against tinsel thread and garlands of metallic filaments that disappear underneath the other...
Come with me to howling tree?””What?””Howling tree. It’s a place a found. Come on
Emancipation from the bondage of the soil is no freedom for the tree.
I am a tree, though I’m not a shady character. I’m like a tree in winter.