In the whispering woods where shadows play,
Nans weave tales of yesteryears,
Their presence soft as morning dew,
Guiding us through ancient fears.
Beneath the canopy, their voices sing,
Melodies of earth and sky,
Roots entwine in silent grace,
Echoes of a lullaby.
Through the seasons, they gently tread,
Nurturing life in every guise,
With every leaf, a story told,
In their wisdom, the world lies.
As the sun sets and stars emerge,
Nans dance in the twilight’s glow,
Guardians of the verdant realm,
Eternal in their gentle flow.