In the whispering woods where Mary roams,
The leaves sing songs of ancient tomes.
Beneath the canopy, shadows play,
A dance of light in nature’s sway.

The creek’s soft murmur tells a tale,
Of journeys past, through hill and vale.
Ferns and moss in emerald hue,
Embrace the earth with morning dew.

Birds on wings weave through the sky,
Their melodies a sweet goodbye.
To the dawn that breaks with golden beams,
Awaking dreams from nature’s seams.

In every corner, life does bloom,
A testament to nature’s room.
Mary Oliver’s gentle gaze,
Captures the world in nature’s praise.