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Who has heard
the trees? The rustling
bray of leaves
is a message of the breeze.
Jealous wind shakes
limbs and branches. Fruit,
seeds fall. Travelers walk away.
What could trees tell
creatures untrained
to stay? Hapless
they pace, forced the foul way
of wind,
unattached.
Man and storm, cursed to wander
between ground and sky.
Systems without fruit.
Wind would have its hearers think
only motion speaks.
Fewer know the silent
intimation of trees.
What a gorgeous, vivid poem! I saw the images unraveling in my head so lucidly.