Forest Labyrinth

The trees, they whisper,
Of Earth's upcoming doom.
They, the wise ones,
Believe these tidings are true.

You see it when they sway in wind,
You feel it in the dead of night;
You smell it in the morning dew,
You taste it in your dreams at night.

They know it comes with quickened wings
And try with might to tell,
But silent are they for all but me,
And, Alas!, I'm trapped here,
Trapped so that I cannot tell.