The mountains stand, ancient and wise,
Whispering secrets to the passing skies.
With each gentle breath, the wind caresses,
Eroding stones, in subtle, quiet presses.

Rivers carve their path through time,
Wearing down the rocks, a rhythm and rhyme.
The sun and rain, partners in this dance,
Paint landscapes, given a second chance.

Nature’s patient hand, steady and slow,
Crafts valleys deep where rivers flow.
In every crack, a story unfolds,
Of time’s soft touch and the world it molds.

Weathering’s art, both fierce and kind,
Shapes the earth, leaves its mark behind.
A testament to time’s endless grace,
Etching beauty in every place.