If I were mayor of my town, I would spend each morning on the grassy common of my town. I would survey the trash cans and the cigarette packages and I would stride right up to one of the trees. My town is famous for its trees. They are splendidly huge, with great maple boughs reaching their limbs into history. If I were mayor, I would close all the hardware stores. Take away the saws and the axes. Lumber has become an everyday commodity, hardly luxurious. I will make it a luxury again. The trees cannot speak- neither English, Spanish, Arabic- but they will thank me by forming breezy canopies over the picnics and festivals of my townspeople. The trees will bring new oxygen into a stuffy town. They will remind us of our past, of our roots. The tallest trees will inspire us to dream big and climb high. I hope that many children grow up beneath the trees, gazing up at their paths to the sky. I hope these children outgrow our town, and make us proud.

As mayor, I would organize tree planting events. And recycling initiatives, and picking up litter. All to protect our trees. They cannot attend school, or use the library, but we will offer them the services they can benefit from.

There will be anger over my favoritism. People will argue that humans should be prioritized over trees. After all, humans have two legs instead of one, and we have brains, which let us think, and devise complex formulas or new ways to kill other people. Trees cannot do those important things, which are essential to being alive. Through this logic, the mob forms. They have no pitchforks, only torches. The torches are made of dead wood, and they cannot cry as they are used to burn their brothers to the ground.

I am the mayor of the town, and when I wake up the following morning I see the ruins of our town. I see the ashes of nature, I see a girl shedding a tear as she looks at the empty space that used to hold the apple tree in her backyard. I see myself in the mirror, and I do not cry. Instead, I go outside. I rally my people- the ones who trusted me enough to put me in office. I tell them the truth, which is that a great tragedy occured last night. I tell them a lie, that this will never happen again. Then I lay out the plans, divide my forces, and begin to replant this town.