In the quiet hush of morning’s grace,
Where dew-drops dance on leaves so small,
A gentle breeze begins to trace,
The whispers of the forest’s call.

Amidst the moss, so green and bright,
Tiny creatures weave their tales,
Their worlds unfold in morning light,
As sunlight through the canopy sails.

The symphony of rustling leaves,
A chorus sung by branches low,
In every sound, the heart believes,
A secret world begins to show.

So pause a while, in nature’s fold,
Where small wonders never cease,
In every leaf, a story told,
In every breeze, a gentle peace.