The Evergreen Murmurs

Do you hear it? The whispers in the woods, soft songs of coniferous schemes.

We would wander often, below the thick canopies of cedar and fir. Conversations meandered like streams—effortless, accompanied by the softly falling needles that carpeted our path.

Familiar Echoes

Sometimes, I'd catch myself staring, half-lost in the spray of sunlight filtering through the branches, thinking about things long missed—almost like seeing old friends in silhouettes of shadow and light.

"Do you think the trees remember us?" she asked, her voice barely rising above the rustle of leaves. There was something in her tone, more curious than wistful. I smiled and thought about how many secrets the forest held— secrets we maybe weren't meant to uncover.

Untangling Threads

Again, another path leads deeper into tangled stories, into the forgotten air beneath conifers bursting with breath, as close to the sky as they dare to be.

Beneath the Old Pines
Charting Conversations