Julia

The trees in the cemetary seem to mock us. There they stand, still alive after centuries, looming over the deceased. They seem to say "I've been here since before all y'all were even a twinkle in your mothers' eyes, and look. You're dead. I'm still standing strong." Trees probably look at us like we look at bugs. Short life expectancies. Easily expendable. But then again, we seem to live fuller. Sure there are risks involved in driving cars, talking on cell phones and eating hot pockets, but who wants to be made of bark and covered in bird poop. I'll take my 75 years over your 300, you tree you.