In silent forests where shadows play,
Stands the sentinel, ancient and wise,
With roots that delve deep, connecting clay,
To the sky where dreams arise.

Through seasons harsh, they hold their ground,
Their branches stretch, embracing the storm,
With every gust, they make no sound,
A testament to nature’s form.

Leaves whisper secrets of the earth,
In rustling tones of green and gold,
They speak of life, of death, of birth,
And stories that are centuries old.

O, trees, your strength is nature’s grace,
Your presence, a gift, serene and free,
In your embrace, we find our place,
Under your canopy, we learn to be.