Ascending under the canopy, where roots whisper algorithms,
the knots in timber speak of clocks ticking in conifers. Mysteries linger in bark patterns,
spiral dances etched in golden sunlight,
Fractal thoughts of the ancient oaks, their wisdom embedded in shadows:
Do the clocks in trees, mechanical and divine, echo the secrets
meant for the wandering minds of man? Touch the mechanical heart,
feel the pulse of the eternal forest.