If A Tree Could Take Your Pulse

If a tree could take your pulse, what would she whisper to the ground?

Would her words be soft and shallow, or would she tell a convoluted story attributing most of your characteristics to your ancestors and the loam where you put out your tenderest roots?

What would she conclude by listening to the murmer of your leaves and branches?

How would she react as you let the first leaf of August, fall?