The Trees Stand Shining begins as does the sunrise: still, yet expectant. Darkly silhouetted against the lightening horizon, a forest awaits morning's arrival. Whether displayed in chartreuse spring green, or cloaked with deeply rutted bark, towering high above into a cobalt blue sky, or flaming incandescent golds and reds during fall, or whispering through quivering needles, trees sing their flory. In every landscape, a tree is a poem.