A Poet-tree

If you find a discarded pile of poems, like leaves withered from a tree, would you jump in it and cherish the crisp, or perhaps stomp your feet upon them and feel them crinkle and wrinkle?
Or maybe you'll walk away, because you see dead foliage everywhere, it's autumn after all.
Or would you take them in, trace them, paint over them and create art from a leaf that passed away in the process of the dance of seasons?
So here you have the Poet-tree, a living representation of the inner feelings expressed by various people, and it changes the way your mind does, by the push of the seasons and the wind of evolution.
The Poet-tree grows day by day, spouting leaves and branches, but dropping much of so.
Full of words and phrases, emotions someone would never speak, and then you take a picture.
Purely because a picture is worth a thousand words.