A gloaming cool descended over the lake, and the trees reflected purple in the still dark water. A boy and his father sat.
“When I come to the water to see my reflection, and then look up and listen closely to the trees as the air moves, I sometimes wonder if the trees have things to say, or if they recognise their own reflections in the waters.” said the boy.
“The trees have voices in the wind, and they have reflections in the water, but they know not what they say, nor what they see reflected.”
“I feel like that too sometimes.” said the boy.
When the boy grew up he was gentle and quiet, and everybody always listened closely to him, as if listening for answers to their most intimate needs.
