Beneath the canopy of emerald dreams,
Where whispers of the wind weave ancient tales,
The sentinels of time, in silent grace,
Stand tall against the ever-changing skies.

Their roots, like veins, delve deep in earth’s embrace,
Anchoring the past within the soil,
Leaves rustling secrets of forgotten days,
In moonlit groves, where shadows dance and coil.

The bark, a tapestry of years gone by,
Each ring a testament to seasons’ flow,
Branches reaching out to touch the stars,
Embracing both the sunlit and the snow.

Oh, ancient trees, your wisdom stands so tall,
A living poem, written by the breeze,
In you, the world finds solace and a song,
A testament to life’s eternal ease.