The trees are torches. Bright red ones, scattered down the road, leading the way home.

The trees are lanterns. Offering warmth, beckoning you to gather people around and share stories of love and loss and laughter.

The trees are blood red. Crimson drops on the ground. Reminding me of Love’s sacrifice, and of the fact that what may soon appear dead and dormant will someday have life again.

The trees are candles. Bringing light and warmth to our otherwise darkening surroundings. Soothing and warming before Winter’s sleep.

The trees are worshiping. 



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