In the heart of the ancient grove,
Where time stands still and whispers rove,
The trees converse in rustling tones,
Their secrets etched on bark and stones.

The sun spills gold on meadows wide,
While rivers in their courses glide,
Reflecting skies of azure deep,
Where dreams of nature gently sleep.

The mountains stand with silent grace,
Guardians of this sacred place,
Their peaks embraced by clouds so high,
Embracing stars in the velvet sky.

In every breeze, a story told,
Of seasons past and days of old,
Nature’s symphony plays on,
In harmony from dusk to dawn.