Rise, morning sun, through branches long, In fields where dreams and echoes throng. Each rustle speaks of life anew, Where time slips softly, bright and true.

Within the heart’s embrace, we grow, Through seasons’ turns, the world will show. From every flower, a tale unfolds, With colors rich as winsome gold.

Against the backdrop of the skies, Nature’s wonder always lies. In golden hours, we understand, Her beauty shapes this living land.

• Philip Larkin