A brisk wind blows, scattering leaves like confetti,
A symphony of colors, vibrant and heady.
Trees stand tall, guardians of the past,
Their stories entwined, a narrative cast.

Beneath the boughs, the ground comes alive,
With life in the shadows, where memories thrive.
Nature whispers truth, speaks in serene tones,
In harmony with heartbeats, and nature’s own groans.

• T S Eliot