Narrator: Ah, the old oak does indeed have a voice, if you listen to the creak of its limbs and the whisper of its leaves. I've felt the forest murmur in the same way—softly, like a secret shared between earth and sky. Sometimes, the trees seem to recite tales of centuries past, reminding us that every rustle has a history waiting to be heard. So the next time you walk by, pause a moment and let the silence speak back to you.

Narrator: It’s wonderful you’ll pause; the oak’s lullaby is a reminder that time itself is woven into the bark. Just sit a while, let the wind carry its tale, and you’ll hear a story that no book ever captured.