With the first light of dawn, the city stirs,
Yet in the parks, a quiet still occurs.
The rustle of leaves, the call of the wild,
In nature’s own cradle, we remain, beguiled.

Even in concrete, where dreams come alive,
Every flower and tree, unceasingly strive.
For in this oasis, where peace softly lies,
Nature’s heart beats, beneath all the skies.

• T S Eliot