In the murmuring glade, where songbirds forget their tunes, the winds hum forgotten words. Silence is but a canvas for echoes unmade, as the mountain streams sing in tongues.
Here in the spectral trails, a symphony of rustling whispers, an orchestra of shadows—
brushes against the mind, shaping echoes into chimeras of sound. Gaze beyond the familiar. Hear the unuttered voicemails of dew.
The trees weave secrets, unspooled in silence's embrace. Dance with phantoms amongst roots entwined in forgotten rhythms.
Occurs on this melancholic slate, where chatter dances on fiber tightropes, as charming crescendos peel from the kingfisher's cry.