The trees hum in languages forgotten by the very winds that carry them. Their notes, a symphony entangled in solar whispers and lunar reflections.
When one listens closely, the quantum leaves shift between realities, each rustle a parallel universe unfolding and folding back.
Entwined in branches, the secrets of time leak like sap, sticky and sweet, confounding the minds that dare ponder their paths.
In a forest untouched by the perceptions of men, the trees sing of what was and what might still be, encased in silent leaves that echo louder than any spoken word.