The Trees of East Bay Street

I feel bottomless affection for Savannah purely because there dwells the most magnificently eerie and stunning trees that I have seen nowhere else. In my opinion, all other lofty woodland vegetation seems like mere shrubbery and does not merit the title of “tree,” after my encounter with the trees on East Bay Street. They grasp your attention subconsciously with their peculiar grandeur. Instead of fussing with the detail of twigs, the imposing beings of wood interweave their thick branches with the warm Georgia atmosphere. Moss drapes the twisted appendages and gives the trees a look of knowledge and portentous age, similar to a man’s graying hair. They seem to bear secrets. I desperately wanted to climb the shrewd entities and listen to their undisclosed understanding. But, my questions were hushed by the tree’s menacing dignity, before I could utter them. It is odd that they were planted in the midst of the disarray of traffic and quickly fleeting crowds of tourists. The longevity and opulence juxtaposed to the brief disorder only intensifies the majestic nature of the trees if an eye is keen of the difference.