Sit among the aspen trees within the mountains on a Fall day and you will notice that they whisper. What is it that they say?
Is it the lamenting sigh of those who are gone or lost; their dying gusts of breath pushing past you with the dying of the year? Or is it rather a hopeful sigh filled with the lust for the remembrance of life, which is sure to come again with the Spring?
Close your eyes and listen! Can you not hear them? Or can you hear only one, always held dear and dreadfully near within the recesses of your mind?
Sit among the aspen trees within the mountains on a Fall evening and you will notice that they whisper. Perhaps it is only a collective sigh of sorrow for us who have been left behind, feeling the urge to close our eyes and imagine sounds in the night.