I’m sure I know that trees can talk,
Although they never run or walk.
For there are some that I have seen
That turn and bend and even lean
Together like old women do
When one has found some gossip new.
Now, deaf and dumb folks talk, I know,
By making finger signs—just so.
And trees can talk that very way,
I stopped and watched them most all day.
Their slender hands they gently swayed
Then folded still—I think they prayed.
Their finger twigs then made such signs
‘Twas hard to follow out their lines
They talked so fast. Their fingers flew
When happy, singing breezes blew.
At times I understood quite well,
But I shall never, never tell
Just what the trees told me that day,
With words like ours ‘tis hard to say.
So trees can talk, if we could hear,
But we must listen right in here (pointing to his heart).