In the whisper of the wind’s soft caress,Mountains stand, their majesty undressed,Silent witnesses to the passage of time,Worn by the elements, sublime.The rain falls, a gentle sculptor’s touch,Carving lines in the ancient rock’s clutch,Each drop a story, a tale untold,In the language of nature, vast and bold.Sunlight dances on the weathered face,Drawing patterns in its warm embrace,Every crack a testament, a line,To the relentless art of time.Amidst the quiet, the earth slowly yields,To the forces that shape and reveal,A landscape transformed, yet still it stands,Weathering’s mark upon the lands.