This time the wooded mountain gave up words. Wild, unbridled verbs thickened the air. Nouns feathered the ground. It was clear the leaves were distressed, by the harshness, the unveiling, as if secrets and belief were meant to hide forever. No one knows how the trees’ bark peeled, how to distinguish the truth among so many naked trunks. Versions differ. Too many adjectives were lost. What is disaster, anyway? Words can only describe sorrow.