Whispers of the Forest
Beneath the sky's vast canopy wide,
Where ancient roots in silence hide,
The trees stand tall, their branches spread,
With whispered secrets overhead.
In green cathedrals, sunbeams play,
Dancing through the leaves at day,
And in their shade, the earth below
Breathes with life, a gentle flow.
The oak, the pine, the maple bright,
Guardians of the day and night,
Their limbs entwined in nature’s grace,
Time's silent keepers in this place.
They sing of seasons, birth and death,
Of winter's chill, and summer's breath,
Of autumn's blaze, and spring's sweet kiss,
In every bough, a tale of bliss.
Their roots dig deep in memory’s soil,
Through storms and sun, they never toil,
Yet stand as monuments to time,
In every ring, a sacred rhyme.
Beneath their shade, we find our peace,
Our worries fade, our thoughts release,
For in the trees, a wisdom old,
A silent story, gently told.
So let us listen, let us hear,
The whispered words that draw us near,
For in the leaves, the branches high,
The trees are poets of the sky.
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