In fields of wildflowers, where colors unite,
We dance with the breezes in pure delight.
The sun paints our laughter with warmth and with cheer,
As joy blossoms forth, from our hearts to the sphere.

Bees hum their tunes, a sweet serenade,
A symphony echoed through glen and through glade.
In nature’s own garden, we gather, we play,
For love’s gentle whispers will guide us today.

• T S Eliot