I wish the trees had just met up

And said “let’s not be mean,

Why must we work so awfully hard

To keep our leaves so green?

Why don’t we halt this tiring race,

As odd as it may sound,

And put our leaves not quite so high,

But closer to the ground?"

For these poor plants must work so hard

To reach into the sky,

And then they’re quickly put to death

Right when the earth goes dry.

I merely think discussion might

Have stopped this oddity,

But who am I to make such calls?

For I am not a tree.