In dawn's soft, golden embrace unfurled,
Where mist weaves through the ancient world,
The forest stands like a silent sage,
With leaves that tell of ages' long pilgrimage.
The brook, a silver ribbon winding free,
Gurgles secrets under canopies,
Past moss - clad stones and fern - filled nooks,
It carries stories from forgotten brooks.
Sunbeams pierce through the leafy screen,
Like arrows of hope in a dappled sheen,
They kiss the wildflowers' painted face,
Each bloom a jewel in nature's grace.
The meadow, a carpet of green and hue,
Sways to the rhythm of the whispering dew,
Butterflies dance on the zephyr's wing,
As if they're the messengers of spring.
At twilight, the sky turns a fiery scroll,
With clouds that look like mythical trolls,
The mountains stand in silhouette grand,
Against the fading, crimson - sand.
Night falls like a velvet cloak so deep,
And stars in the sky begin to leap,
The owls hoot from the shadowy boughs,
Guarding the secrets of the wild's proud vows.
In nature's realm, a symphony plays,
A song of life in endless arrays,
Let us listen with hearts so true,
To the whispers of the wild, old and new.
