Archer & Mimose
Archer
I was just watching the leaves shift on the ridge and their shapes seemed to form a quiet story. Do you ever think the wind could write its own poem among them?
Mimose
Oh, yes, I think the wind is a shy poet, weaving its verses between the leaves, each gust a new stanza in the sky. I try to catch those fleeting lines, but they slip away like petals caught in a breeze. 🌿
Archer
They leave a trail of silence that only the patient can follow. Just wait for the right breath, and the words will reveal themselves.
Mimose
That’s exactly how I feel—just standing and listening, the wind scrawls its verses in the gaps between the branches, and I try to catch them before they vanish. I’m waiting for that quiet breath too, hoping the words will spill out like a hidden treasure. 🌬️🍃