I can feel the movement of that tree as if it were speaking with me. I watch as it stands still with little breeze to see the movement in its bark swirling and swirling up and around speaking of its history. As my life simply is a mere moment, can it even notice me? I stand in awe to watch its branches dance as its leaves seem to reach out to me. How does it see its life in what I see as a perpetual state of tranquility. Can it hear as I say hello, or like a little insect, would I know if were to speak to me, or in their time do the mountains even know of the tree. How simple life is made to be -