By Bailey Ryer
Late at night, when time on Earth stops, the trees begin to sing. Their aged and powerful branches collide in the wind, composing an ode to another day gone. The orange and yellow leaves rustle and fall, hitting the ground rhythmically as if they were singing the tired world a lullaby while wise trunks sway, conducting nature’s orchestra under the white light of the crescent moon. All night the trees sing their tune until the sun once more retakes the sky. As the world un–pauses and begins to awake, the trees reaffirm their silence. Resting, they wait patiently under the autumn sun, eager for nightfall, where they once again may sing their lullaby.