Have you ever thought about what trees might be saying to each other? I mean, really, when the wind dances through the leaves, what whispers are shared? If only we could eavesdrop on that eternal conversation.
In the quiet rustle of leaves, there's a language more ancient than tongues—one of branches and roots, a dialect of the forest. "Wisssssper," they might say, "we are but shadows in the wind, echoes of echoes."
Listen—a thought offered under boughs: "One does not simply stand tall without knowing the art of bending."
Perhaps in their own way, trees understand the futility of standing against time's relentless march. Yet, they persist, bending gently amid the storms. Their silent resilience speaks volumes more than words.
Unheard Messages or perhaps a visit to Contact Points where whispers gather.