Beneath the ancient canopy, where shadows softly play,
The whispers of the forest sing, in a gentle, green ballet.
Leaves rustle in a secret dance, as sunlight filters through,
Painting golden patterns, in a world forever new.

The streams weave tales of ages past, with murmurs soft and clear,
Their waters glide o’er polished stones, a melody to hear.
Among the moss and fern they laugh, in whispers sweet and light,
A testament to nature’s grace, in the day and in the night.

The flowers bloom in silent song, their colors bold and bright,
A tapestry of life they weave, in the morning light.
Butterflies and bees perform, in this ballet of air,
Each movement tells a story, of a world beyond compare.

As twilight falls, the forest breathes, with a tranquil, sacred sigh,
The stars emerge, a choir of light, adorning the night sky.
In this serene sanctuary, where time itself seems still,
The whispers of the forest sing, a song of nature’s will.