Enough to inspire poetry.

Ahem.

In the graveyard of trees life is vacant. There are only ghosts here that ache to stand still against the sky.

Their desire is to age gracefully in their sullen beauty; monuments of an era immemorial.

Yet every so often, winds rush charges through and commands movement in the pressure of its wake.

Its unwelcome presence is trembled upon, and deemed horrific; for wind is unimpeded, and ghosts would rather not bow, bend, and break helplessly at its mercy.

Piece by piece, the lifeless branches snap and chip away; their former glory forced to descend as they involuntarily bury themselves in their own tarnished beauty.

Fated to tragically weep at the irony of their demise.

[Poem is OC] excellent shot btw! So beautiful its surreal to me.