The whispering streams that wind through the glade, Pass secrets of nature in a soft serenade; Where fern fronds flutter and wildflowers sway, The essence of beauty in a timeless ballet.

Here time drips slowly, like honey from comb, In the warmth of the sunlight, I find my true home. To wander through woodlands, to breathe and to see, In the heart of the wild, where my spirit roams free.

• David Jones