Beneath the Wattle Tree

In the lush shade of the wattle’s bloom, Where golden spray dispels the gloom, The fragrance sweet, a heady delight, Calls the wild creatures that dance in the light.

With birdsong bursting, the space comes alive, In the heart of the forest, where spirits thrive, Leaves rustle softly with stories from old, Tales of the earth in the gentle fold.

Rest here a while, in your quiet retreat, Let nature’s embrace be your sacred seat, For beneath the wattle, all burdens cease, And in nature’s realm, we find our peace.

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• E A McKinney