In the hush of the waning light, beneath the canopy of silence, the trees murmur in tongues older than time itself. Their leaves weave tales of the gales and shadows, encrypted firmly in the bark of existence. Listen closely, and you shall hear.
T'was a time when branches bowed in reverence, to a whispering symphony of slumber. Underneath the twilight veil, echoes of ancient wisdom lingered like fragrant mist upon dew.