A Blithering Literates Life

Scores of humans had taken the path in silence and in talk and the trees had always heeded their jabbering speak and gleaned many meanings out of those diverse languages.  They certainly had the time, most of the trees along this path being of an age that inclined them to ruminate about the good old days, like all introspective fogies fixed in their ways and places in the world.  In the case of the trees the dirt was where they were fixed.  The old man listened to the trees and counted himself lucky for still being able to get around with relatively little trouble.

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