Trees: revisited

It may sound trite or cliche, but I admire the trees more than just about anything. They seem so incredibly strong, yet they are just as delicate as any of us. The sounds they make are as beautiful as their appearance, if not more-so. If you listen close enough and close your eyes, their rustling leaves sound just like the ocean. There is this massive tree in my front yard that seems to extend to the heavens. Today I looked up at how tall it is. At how far it reaches in each direction. Up. To the side. Close. Far. And then, I looked down. I don't look down at trees I guess; it just never occurs to me, really. But I looked down on it today, and admired how its roots rumpled just above the earth. Rumpled lumps bellowing out a few inches away from the heavy concrete barriers of the sidewalk. And then suddenly... as if awakened after a long slumber, my eyes opened so wide, like seeing for the very first time. I imagined for a moment, taking away the sidewalk, and the dirt, and the layers upon layers of history of this tree, and like an xray I envisioned all of the life that lies beneath the surface unnoticed or un-thought of by anyone. How if the Earth around it was a great body of clear, supple water, what that reflection of the tree's naked branches would look like- a mirror image. But this mirror image isn't that of a reflection at all. It is literally buried underneath my feet... this fantastic labyrinth of roots, as big if not bigger then the tree itself... tangling up and strangling the soil, as if they were little snakes preying on the bits of water that trickle down giving them life. Are the roots jealous that they are just as magnificent and beautiful and immense as their twin above? Angry that they don't get any recognition at all for its splendor? They just live in the shadows and the darkness, doing their duty to be certain that life extends another day. They don't get to feel the tickle of the squirrels scurrying across their branches. They don't get to embrace any nests of sweet, fresh birds in their arms. They don't get to experience what it's like to have any color grow out of them. They just lie there...always brown...reaching deeper and deeper into the Earth...reaching...without anybody at all paying them any attention, or appreciating them, or acknowledging that they even exist.
 There is this alternate universe underneath us, and that is pretty damned amazing...