A woodland glen where the wild roseers grow, A path that meanders where cool breezes blow. The rustle of leaves in the thickening air, An ode to the presence of nature laid bare.
With every footfall on soft mossy ground, The earth speaks in quiet, her voices resound. From the whispering waters to the furrowed stone, In nature’s embrace, the heart finds its home.
- Willa Cather