I am not a morning person

I went stomping through the quiet and lifeless, even leafless, winter forest early today when I had the urge to write something persuasive, something irresistable, so that all sad and sheltered Hoosiers may see 250-foot-tall trees and know that everything is going to be okay now. If you've seen 250-foot-tall trees, then you know what I mean when I say comfort. If you have, but you don't, then please look again and think of the word. Comfort. Say it out loud if necessary.

Look. Outside. What are your trees like? Every region can be defined by this. Not by some naturalist or poet or politician, but by the trees themselves. They define you. Your environment, your mood, your life. It all branches from, stems from, has roots in, grows in, flourishes when, dies when, and that's why I say again, look. Outside. At your trees. At your life.