In the heart of the forest,
a symphony hums,
the rustling leaves creating
music only the trees understand.
Moss carpets the ground,
a soft embrace underfoot,
where critters scurry,
a choreography of survival
in this haven of life.
The bark speaks of time,
while the sun filters down,
a mosaic of shadows and light,
a dance that reconnects
with the pulse of the wild,
a circle of life that breathes
through the emerald arms of the world.

• Lanford Wilson