Does no one else want to listen to the trees?
The stories they tell and the secrets they hold? The wisdom of magic is firmly rooted, while their guidance is from the stars.
What do they know that I don’t?
They live in truth without the burden of tomorrow, yet show their leaves when storms roll in – rain is their fruit, not their woe. I could perhaps learn if they would teach the ways in which they sway through turbulence. Greenest and brightest after the downpour, ignited by the offering. A safe canopy for those in wait, and a home for many more.
I could perhaps be like the trees if only I would listen.