26.

The trees have eyes.

You can feel them quietly observing all that enter their home.

Fawns skipping through the undergrowth. Stopping every so often, their noses wiggling in time with their tails.

The wise and ancient guardians of the world keeping all safe within their realm.

Shifting ever so slightly overtime, moving at their leisure.

Housing thousands of lives, both within their trunks and on their bark.

If the trees could speak, I would sit for lifetimes to hear their stories.

They are our best storytellers, their skin documenting legends within our long storybook of the human race.