All those little son of a guns. Everybody's different. Trees are different. Let them all be individuals. Maybe there was an old trapper that lived out here and maybe one day he went to check his beaver traps, and maybe he fell into the river and drowned. Think about a cloud. Just float around and be there. Poor old tree.
Let that brush dance around there and play. Maybe there's a happy little bush that lives right there. You have freedom here. The only guide is your heart. Put light against light - you have nothing. Put dark against dark - you have nothing. It's the contrast of light and dark that each give the other one meaning. Get tough with it, get strong.