“If trees talk, I’m sure they also listen.”
“Sure, they do! But will they understand your music? You may be disturbing the peace of the forest.”
“I don’t think so, going by the swaying of the leaves to my music.”
He was playing the instrument again, and I listened spellbound. The gentle rustling of leaves added its notes. Gradually, the sound got fierce. Whistling sounds turned to whoosh and whack. The rustling of the leaves stopped, as branches fell.
It looked like the onset of a storm. I turned back to ask the musician.
He was gone like the wind.