When foliage has rustled in a breeze,
you heard it as a gorgeous conversation
between the talkative and lofty trees,
inducing in you awe and contemplation
of what the trees were saying as they spoke,
concluding that their words defied translation,
mysterious the speech of beech and oak
that moved your soul in rapture’s transportation.
But you observe that though their talk is lovely,
the trees need more than one another’s talk:
they need the sunlight for their growing lofty,
for a trunk to thicken from a slender stalk.
It’s great to speak, like each leaf on its stem,
but we need light beyond ourselves, like them.
Mario A. Pita