(Those reading “Shootings” probably will want to continue to Part Eight)

Winter tries its best to rob trees of perhaps their best argument against the creeping concrete jungle.

Leaves.

Leaves add color to a landscape that is barren where not covered by buildings. They mute the cacophony of cars while hiding highways. They offer up a variety of greens in spring and summer, and a firestorm of reds, oranges, and yellows in fall.

Leaves give voice to the wind, and applaud loudly when it’s strong enough.

Despite taking all this away from trees, Winter fails. Stripped bare, trees sketch skeletal reminders that they are alive, intricate Silhouettes against the horizon of sunrise and sunset.

The bony branches also serve as reminders that the leaves will return to add color to the world, dampen urban white noise, and ask for nothing but our exhalations in return. Houses and office buildings, colleagues and friends, come and go, but the loyalty of leaves is unflagging.