Living in a treehouse, I can't help but listen to the singing of the trees. They are more quiet during this time of year because, in my corner of the forest, it is fall. Most of the trees have lost their percusive instruments. Their singing is mostly a cappella and haunting. The tree's arms move in a creaking sound that at first caused me great fear. I was afraid a branch would give way to the load of my house, but Nina explained that branches can't creak if they are dead, and only a dead branch would break from the trunk. So, now I only worry when the singing stops. ;-)
On windy nights, treesong lulls me to sleep and in my dreams I am certain I hear the words the trees sing. Most nights they sing of dancing in the wind, of feeling strong and well rooted, or of their power to prevail any storm. After a day of storms so strong that nearby trees lose branches or fall completely, the treesong changes to one of grieving for a lost brother or sister tree. They sing of their dependance upon the soil and Mother Nature. These songs are humble and thoughtful and grateful.
In my dreams, I sing along with the trees. And in my wakefulness I dance to their rhythm. On mornings after the trees have grieved, I try to comfort the tree that holds my nest and those nearby. I sing to them of hope. I remind them of joy.