In the gentle rustle of the leaves,
A melody the heart believes.
The whispering winds, they softly sing,
Of nature’s grace and eternal spring.
The brook that babbles through the glen,
A soothing song for beasts and men.
With every ripple, a story spun,
Beneath the golden, setting sun.
The flowers bloom in vibrant hues,
Painting fields with morning dews.
Their fragrant whispers fill the air,
A perfumed promise everywhere.
As stars emerge in twilight’s glow,
The nightingale begins its show.
A symphony beneath the skies,
In rhyming nature, beauty lies.