With the fall of the dew, as the morning arrives,
the world starts to shimmer, and each creature thrives.
From the flutter of wings, to the call of the thrush,
nature’s orchestra plays, in a jubilant rush.

The grasses stand tall, like sentinels proud,
while clouds drift like dreams through the soft, rolling shroud.
In this delicate moment, I feel time gently spin,
as the spirit of nature welcomes me in.

• Émile Zola