Ancient Voices

Wind rustling, cool glade whispering.

Song of silence, voice of eternity.

Slumbering giants awaken.

For centuries they’ve stood, time without end.

For decades more they’ll remain, ageless.

Storms have come and gone, bowing the ancients to their will.

Leaning now, they wait for the next tempest.

Their skins cracked with age, their grasping arms old.

Sentinels of the forest, sentries of the wood.

Patiently they set down roots, drawing life from their native earth.

In solitude they reign, in silence they rule.

Wind rustling, cool glade whispering.

Voices lost in eternity.