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The forest spoke in encrypted tongues —
stories woven between branches and roots,
echoing through soil's ancient abyss.
Whisper, once upon an acorn's dream,
a riddle carved in bark's secrecy:
"When does the leaf's shadow weep dusk?"
Answer through the communion of sap....
In every grove lies a tree's confession,
obscured in twilight's lingering scent,
Yet, the path remains mutable as
winds weave through unspoken sighs.