Encrypted in the silvered bark whispers
of sunlit branches and rustling foliage.

The language of ancient growth
cradles secrets in soft green shadows.

Listen to the spiraling whispers,
they tell of time's slow rotation around the moon.

Roots entwine
beneath the soil's quiet tapestry,
forming sentences only seen
by those who know light spills
through the mind's closed eyelids.

Seek the hills
where fir and pine dance
in step with the wind's breathing.
Find clarity
in the echo of falling seeds:
Signal from Shadows
or
Whisper's Echo