I hear birds chirping and twittering, singing a song. This makes me wonder about birds and where their songs come from. How ancient the song I am hearing really is. As I take a step into the forest, I notice at first the trees, stretching high above the ground, as if in competition with one another, to see who will reach the sky first. Their roots are long and strong, going deep under the ground, indicating that they have lived in the area for a long time, for centuries. As I look up, I notice first their leaves. Although they are green, they have a tinge of gold reflected in the sun making them bright and radiating their light around the forest. Looking down the tree, in the day of the forest, I can see a faint glow. I see that the colour of their thick, soft trunks is different from the common tree.
The branches of the trees are like dark lines that have followed the movements of the silence; the leaves thickly cover the branches as if the silence wanted to conceal itself. . .The forest is like a great reservoir of silence out of which the silence trickles in a thin, slow stream and fills the air with its brightness. It was a calm, overcast day, and I found myself resting at the side of a large oak tree, admiring the beauty of the woods that surrounded me.
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.
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