The trees were behind them, but ahead of them lay nothing just a vast, dark void.

To the right, a dead tree lay on its side, falling apart with rot.

He reached the foot of the slope, where the trees began, and laid the rifle down silently.

The trees had laid green healing hands on his eyes, banishing the pictures of war.

Smashed and broken trees lay all around it, so clearly the beast had died violently.

A dead, white, monolithic tree trunk lay flat on the stage.

Broken glass lined streets, and trees lay in front yards.

The great trees lay in pools of shadow, and a cold wind was sweeping through the leaves.

Close to the spring and in between the Tipolo trees laid the old railway.

For three years after falling, the tree lay on the ground while city leaders struggled to finally determine its fate.