From where I am, on the top of Wallaford Hill, I look across and see these neatly estranged row of trees.
Zooming in, they look like they’ve been deliberately, intricately, and intentionally, lined up side by side with one another.
To achieve some kind of sculptured show off theatricality.
Like a stand of stagely arranged fussy gentlemen.
Next time I’m up there I’ll have to walk over the field to get a closer look, check them out.
Or maybe it would be best to leave them be. Let their stand alone peculiar singularity stay unchecked, and intact.