Shakespeare referred to talking trees in As You Like It, where there are 'tongues in trees' (II. 1.16)
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Between soils and skies, trees touch
fingertip to fingertip.
We are thirsty to know them
like the sunken world of seas.
Two Oaks of Truth and Justice,
scholars with lush mortarboards,
teach and bring order with tongues.
Concave, tilted trunks sieze light.
Round the bend saplings, on speed.
They all form the brood. Fathers.
Mother beech trees. Giving genes
and fibrous tissues, strong stems.
Roots. Their porous wisdom pulls
us to greet a Hornbeam chief.
Haven to plush, bronze wildlife.
A darling Ash reaches out,
silver hearted, tears in eyes.
Elders shout stop them building!
We act on their call of gold
before the trackless night falls.
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