trees

Hunched over, Haggled
Towering, Green, Giants 
Glare down at me 
Whispering to the wind 
Laughing and Judging

They straighten up
Then slowly but surely 
they begin to twirl 
whistling past him 
they resume their complicated tango with the wind
soon the spinning and twirling comes to a stop 
my imagination ceases and goes with a pop
I find myself standing in a forest of pine