In the hush of leaves, where whispers softly play,
A “Poem On Nature” blooms, in verses’ gentle sway.
Each line a petal, vibrant hues so true,
Unveiling landscapes, where dreams and dewdrops strew.
Mountains stand as verses, reaching for the sky,
Rivers sing their ballads as they gracefully glide by.
Sunsets etch their sonnets in hues of golden fire,
A symphony of nature, a poet’s heart’s desire.
Woodlands breathe in sonnets, where emerald verses grow,
Meadows dance in couplets, a rhythmic, wild flow.
Each stanza penned by time, in the language of the breeze,
Nature’s “Poem On Nature,” an ode that never cease.
Clouds compose their verses in the canvas of the air,
Raindrops write their lines upon petals fair.
Whispers in the zephyr, secrets in the trees,
A “Poem On Nature” hums with every breeze.
So, in the sacred silence where wild things unfold,
Read the verses written in sunset’s molten gold.
For in each line, a story, in every word, a feature,
A timeless ode to beauty—a cherished “Poem On Nature.”