Only branches in the wind

Remember you built the fire,
  I have not added a branch.

You cut the trees,
  bringing their branches,
     throwing them on the fire.

Hear the sound,
  branches weaving in the night,
   waiting til the fire grows dim.

The trees are my friends,
  having talked for ages.

Long as you never swung an axe,
  I doubt you have to worry.