Trees<br><i>A Prose Poem</i>
Surely you've noticed how, as soon as you get out of the city, the sight of trees and greenery lifts up the spirits, even to the point of elation. The reason for this, I'm certain, has to do with evolutionary psychology. Our mind is essentially the same as that of our earliest ancestors on the African savanna, where foliage meant food to pluck or trap or hunt. Plants and trees and grassland, so to speak, meant both nature and nurture.
I wonder if our evolutionary connection with vegetation goes deeper still. Is it too fanciful to imagine that trees inspired our evolution into two-legged homo sapiens sapiens? I can see our almost-human predecessors staring awe-struck at the vertical rise of tree-trunks, topped by varied and quite fantastic hairstyles, and then pushing off the earth with their forefeet in an attempt to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. Needless to say, those who succeed reach out with their hands to pluck the appetizing fruit nestling amidst the boughs. The rest is Darwinian commonsense.
Later, when mankind had found their best friend in the dog, the dutiful canine quadruped, like an ideal slave, identified completely with the master, to the extent of trying to emulate the tree-like stance. Alas, it could only manage to make a tripod of itself. The poor creature's frustration and resentment settled into a subliminal layer of its psyche to obtain pleasing release each time it raised a rear leg to deluge the roots of a tree.
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