Does the tree mourn the loss of her leaves?

As each begins to dry and shrivel, does she ache with the anticipation of what is to come?

Does the tree shed a tear for each leaf that drops from her limbs?

Does the tree weep as she stands naked and cold, towering over the remains

of all that once was,

all that will no longer be,

all that will dissolve to dust?

Does the tree, stripped bare, feel the cold shock of fear, knowing she is no longer who she was?

Does the tree tremble with the thought that, perhaps, this time, she will not survive the winter?

Does the tree mourn the loss of herself?