Beneath the ancient canopy, secrets linger
in the whispering wind, a dialect lost
to time. Time flows in rings unseen, holding
memories of sunlight and rain's embrace.
Listen close, for the murmurs of roots tell tales
woven into the very soil. Every pulse of
your breath mirrors the silent expansion
of trunks, a synchronized dance of life.
Decode the foliage's silent songs, an encrypted
language of rustling leaves, as emerald
fingers etch patterns in fading twilight,
writing truths untold in the language of trees.