I never sat and looked at these trees

That surround our property

It’s early February and the trees are bare

No leaves

Only tiny spots of green pine

For now

I’ve taken them for granted

They're a steppingstone 

A beautiful backdrop

I only glance over

In passing

Suddenly,

I admire their stillness

Standing peacefully

Patiently

I envision a day 

When they're no longer here

Cut down

Maybe even bulldozed to the flat ground

Hauled away 

For firewood 

Lumber 

I’m not sure

Yet,

I don’t care

At least as much as I think I will

When they're just a memory

The intriguing aspect of all of this

And as people say 

You never appreciate anything

Until it’s gone

The trees are not gone 

I stand here

Under a half lit sun 

On a surprisingly pleasant day 

Given the time of year

The trees are still here

For now