Beneath the canopy where sunlight weaves,
A tapestry of shadows softly breathes,
The whispers of the ancient trees,
Echo through the rustling leaves.
The river sings a gentle tune,
A lullaby beneath the moon,
Stones and ripples in harmony,
Crafting tales of eternity.
Mountains stand in silent grace,
Guardians of this sacred space,
Their peaks kiss the azure skies,
Watching as the eagle flies.
In the meadow, wildflowers bloom,
Painting fields with vibrant hues,
Nature’s palette, bold and bright,
Dancing in the morning light.