I have always been intrigued by the whispering trees.
Each has a different story it tells, though not always a whispers, the wind that blows through its leaves and branches. With Fall their dried leaves crackle and break from their branches alerting us of times to come; Winter has their bare branches whistling of cold but also of steadfastness and a new beginning; then Spring and the soft, simple immature banter of their new leaves and finally Summer with their full and heavy songs of another circle yet completed.
These stories can best be heard by anyone taking the time to listen.
Contributed by Gary White, Wheaton, IL