A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the 
roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches 
in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the 
outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never 
cease.
[John Muir]
Tell me my dears
Are you coniferous?
Do your leaves last all year?
Will you always be here
Are you coniferous?