Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue. Their twisted roots strongly resemble that of the Womping Willow. Some argue using words to fight with others while some sway their branches at the tree closest to them causing the sound of their branches rustling to fill the night.

Are the tree’s agreements real or is it simply just a fragment of my imagination? That, I do not know. But when these tree argue I feel as though a tiny bit of the anger I’ve been holding onto dissapears. And somehow their words comfort me. So, I lie silently on the soft grass as I listen to the trees agrue.