TREES
That each day I may walk unceasingly on the banks of my water, that my soul may repose on the branches of the trees which I planted, that I may refresh myself under the shadow of my sycamore. —Egyptian tomb inscription, circa 1400 BCGhosts, haints, haunts. Shimmer me timbers in this ghastly dance. Sun slices trees and stones. Leaves and bones. Ghosts, haints, haunts. Cloaked in fog and surrounded by a sea of yellow foot soldiers, the hollow tree makes its last stand. All is quiet on the wester