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Trees tell tales. They whisper, sometimes like old conspiring women, huddled eagerly around each other to gossip, to tell. Sometimes a whisper of what needs be heard, a whisper of what needs to be felt. Sometimes in a great roar of what may come to pass. Can you hear them? Can you hear them call out? Will you let the quiet take you and open yourself to the power, to the majesty? I have, and they speak, they call, they conspire and jest and scold and mourn. Some have been here long before us, and will be long after we are dust. They are the wisdom of this world. They are the keepers of knowledge and of experience. Quiet yourself and listen to them. The trees, listen to them, hear their voices. The leaves speak & the branches show the way. Hear their call, heed their warnings. ~ /\/\ | /\/ /-\ | |