In the whispers of the leaves, I hear your voice,
Walt Whitman, nature’s lyrical choice.
With every breeze, a poem is born,
In fields of green and golden corn.
The sky mirrors your endless dreams,
Rivers flow with subtle gleams.
In the dusk and dawn’s embrace,
I find your words, a gentle grace.
The forest hums with ancient lore,
Each tree a verse, forevermore.
Birds sing hymns in twilightâs glow,
In your lines, they find their flow.
Oceans whisper tales untold,
Waves of poetry, vast and bold.
In nature’s heart, your spirit lives,
Through every line, your love it gives.