The trees whispered,
"Deeper, far deeper, beyond roots' grasp,
Lies a Siren made of circuits and echoes."
Indeed, whispers only understood by the old oaks.
Sonar's Choir:
"Do we articulate in bark or lore, when signals
bounce off branches green, cloaked in irony?"
Decision laid on the forest floor, leaf litter
encrypts understanding, transmitting
their demise, like wisdom lost to wind.
And thus, sonar's laughter echoed,
a folly of frequencies searching for
understanding in silences of timber.