Where the Trees Dance

Just outside the Indianapolis Motor Speedway there's a small grove of trees that becomes an RV parking lot when races are held. The rest of the year the place stands quietly in the shadow of the main grandstand, visited only by occasional walkers like me. 

I go there to visit the trees, to check on their welfare, not in any arborological sense (is that even a word?), but more to see whether they are still standing, dancing with the rhythm of time that has turned them over the years, as they reach towards the sun.

When the race-goers come in the summer with their RV's and campers, they think they're getting a parking lot with trees. 

I think they're getting a ballroom ...

where the trees dance.