Whispers of the Old Bark
Twisted limbs reach high and pure,
Ancient whispers of rings endure,
Tales of centuries softly spoken,
In every leaf, life's token.
Rugged bark, weathered, wise,
Watching seasons change and skies,
Sturdy fortress for the small,
Gentle giant over us all.
Carving names and hearts so free,
In your trunk, we leave our plea,
A promise held in wooden keep,
Secrets that the willows weep.
Roots that delve through earthen seams,
Harboring the planet's dreams,
Holding fast, embracing land,
With tenebrous fingers, a silent hand.
As twilight weaves its closing part,
Rest beneath the old tree's heart,
Worlds entwine where shadows park,
Listen close—the old bark’s hark.
Sentinel of the Meadow
Sentinel standing, tall and true,
Emerald gown kissed with dew,
Guardian of the meadow's breath,
Defiance against time and death.
Cycles spun of green and gold,
Quiet strength in your fold,
Breeze plays through your leafy hair,
Songs of nature's hummed affair.
Spring adorns you, floral crown,
Summer's heat, your leaves embrown,
Autumn's fire, your last hurrah,
Winter's hush beneath the stars.
Within your shade, new life stirs,
Feathered nests and soft-furred burrs,
Every branch a home anew,
Shelter from the stormy blue.
Stalwart friend through fleeting years,
Standing against the wind's sharp shears,
Meadow's heart, life's ceaseless flow,
Tree's silent watch, the world to know.
Canvas of Leaves
Reds and yellows, auburn hues,
The painter's brush, the tree's own muse,
Canvas stretched across the sky,
A masterpiece no wealth can buy.
Rustle of the canvas leaves,
Murmurs of the artist's heaves,
Autumn's palette, colors bleed,
Nature's touch in every seed.
Leaves that swirl on wind's command,
Like dancers in a well-led band,
The spectacle of fall's own flight,
Day's warm gaze, cool embrace of night.
Host to countless transient arts,
Etching joy within our hearts,
Trees that catch the falling sun,
Until the evening has begun.
The branches bare as colors wane,
But no beauty here is lost in vain,
For come the dawn of spring's first eye,
Life's mural returns beneath the sky.
Resilience in Roots
In silence, you grow, unnoticed, still,
Drawing life from the hidden rill,
Resilience found in tangled roots,
From tiniest shoots to stoutest boots.
Eternal game of push and pull,
Nature's hands never dull,
Against the winds, you claim your place,
Unyielding stance with silent grace.
Bound to earth, yet reaching high,
Engraving stories in the sky,
Not even the fiercest storm can rout,
The power in roots, the heart devout.
Generations pass, feet tread near,
Over roots spreading without fear,
Sheltering life both night and day,
In their arms, the world's display.
Oh, mighty tree, with roots unseen,
Through your trials, your leaves stay green,
Each ring sealed in your quiet trove,
Chronicles of unwavering love.
The Orchard's Choir
Whistling winds through branches bare,
The hushed communion in the air,
Rows of sentinels, poised in song,
In the orchard, where they belong.
Fruits of plenty in the sun’s caress,
Boughs that sway in sweet distress,
Nature's bounty held aloft,
In leafy crowns, both tender and soft.
Bees and blossoms, shared refrain,
White-petaled rain in spring's campaign,
Every tree with stories ripe,
An anthology of each archetype.
The cycles swing, the seasons change,
Orchestration on an earthen stage,
Trees that yield with modest pride,
The essence of the sun inside.
Stand amidst this tranquil choir,
Feel the pulse, the life, the fire,
Orchard’s voice in rustling leaf,
Harmony in every sheaf.
Gentle Arboreal Lullaby
In twilight's glow, the trees they hum,
A gentle arboreal lullaby, then some,
Swaying softly under moon's watchful eye,
Lifting dreams with branches to the sky.
Leaves that whisper secrets, old and new,
An emerald dance in the evening's hue,
Stars that twinkle in the quiet embrace,
Of tree-limbed silhouettes, etched in space.
Roots, they cradle the slumbering earth,
Nurturing solace, giving nightmares dearth,
Each leaf's tremble, a tender sigh,
As night unfolds its vast, dark tie.
Creatures nestled within your folds,
In the safety of your ancient holds,
Every nest a tender berth,
In the sanctuary of your girth.
And when dawn paints the world anew,
With strokes of pink and golden hue,
Your lullaby fades in the waking sky,
‘Til night returns with a tree's soft cry.
Citadel of Solitude
A lonely oak in the field stands guard,
Silvered leaves sing a ballad, starward,
Majesty cloaked in pure solitude,
A citadel of silent fortitude.
No other kin for miles to find,
Yet it rises, stately and kind,
Wind weaves through its branches wide,
An unwritten sonnet that resides inside.
Rugged roots drink deep and true,
From secret springs with morning dew,
Alone, yet the universe comes to gaze,
At its quiet strength that never decays.
Cattle rest in its gentle lee,
Seeking comfort from torrid spree,
A king in its realm, though it wields no sword,
Its power in stillness, mighty and broad.
Sea of grass waves, a boundless tide,
Yet the tree stands alone, with pride,
In its citadel of solitude, time is its friend,
Enduring far beyond the day’s end.
Forest Murmurs
Listen close to the forest's speech,
The murmurs of wisdom the ancients teach,
Leaves that flutter, the branches bow,
A chorus of nature performing now.
Every trunk, stood columns of time,
Rising rhythm, an earthly chime,
Each tree a keeper of the world's lore,
In the hushed glade, whispers galore.
Carpets of moss at the behemoths' base,
Dappled sunlight, a delicate lace,
Squirrels scatter through the verdant gloom,
Alive with the forest's perennial bloom.
The stream intones its own melody,
Echoing softly, free and spree,
Water and wood in dulcet rapport,
A pact between the root and the shore.
In the hearts of men, the forest sighs,
Boundless tales under the skies,
Murmurs heard by those who heed,
The forest speaks, to those who need.
Timbered Majesty
Sentinels clad in timbered majesty,
An assembly of ages, proud and free,
Bark etched deep with the script of time,
Branching toward heaven, sublime.
Kings of the wood, a regal sight,
Veiled dancers in the moon’s pale light,
Leaves rustling in the evening's tale,
An epic whispered on the gale.
Each ring, a chapter of earth's embrace,
A history hidden beneath the chase,
Years stack upon the silent core,
An endless tome, forevermore.
From the smallest seed destiny unfurls,
Nature's decree, a crown of swirls,
With every sun's ascent and steep,
Life's fervent promise, they keep.
Though some may fall to time’s decree,
Their timbered majesty lives on, you'll see,
In wooden beams or parchment’s face,
Preserved forever, dignified grace.
Season's Artists
The trees, they play in an artist's hand,
Shaping seasons across the land,
They dab the spring in shades of green,
In nature's gallery, widely seen.
Summer blooms with fervent zest,
In crowns of green the sun's caressed,
Children play in cool shadows cast,
By trees that host a verdant mast.
Autumn's brush with fire aglow,
Canvases change in the waning glow,
Crimson, gold in a vibrant play,
Prepare for winter's monochrome day.
When branches bare, like skeletons reach,
Against cold skies, each a silent beseech,
Snowflakes settle on limbs like fleece,
Trees become sculptors of winter's peace.
Season's artists bend and sway,
In the living mural of night and day,
Trees paint the world with life's array,
Marking time in their steadfast way.
