I walked with the trees yesterday. Listened to their leaves rustling in the breeze that blew in off the water. Felt their roots buried deep within the earth stirring the mysteries only my heart can hear.

And as I walked, I imagined I could hear the wind whispering its stories of far away places into the open branches stretched out across the sky – tales of wonder and awe, love and war, joy and sorrow. Stories it’s witnessed on its journey through time and space.

The trees have much to teach us.

In The Language of Trees
by Louise Gallagher

In the language of trees, 
there is no me or you, 
  only us, 
    intertwined 
with roots that grip the earth
that binds us deep to one another.

In the language of trees, 
there is no beginning, 
 no ending, 
  no in between,
  only winds of time 
   that sculpt our limbs,
  whispering through leaves 
 forever reaching out
to capture sacred stories 
of far away places.

Each dawn unfolds a tapestry of leaves, 
a fleeting masterpiece of green. 
  Every leafy tendril counts, 
   from roots that divine the mysteries
  of the dark soil below
 to the tips of branches 
that sing songs of joy
to the sky above.

We are a symphony of wood and leaf,
 earth and water
   wind and storm
    a chorus rising from the soil,
   each voice distinct, 
  each song an opus 
 a tapestry of voices, rich and deep,
woven into the story of our humanity
grounded in the language of trees.