Whispers of the Redwood

Beneath the ancient redwood canopy,
where time stands still in whispered hush,
nature composes a symphony of ages,
and the forest breathes in rhythmic brush.

Mossy whispers cling to the bark,
stories woven in the tapestry of years,
each ring a chapter, each leaf a page,
as the redwoods share ancestral cheers.

Tall sentinels guard the secrets held,
branches entwine in a sacred dance,
the forest floor, a carpet of memories,
where every footstep echoes, a chance.

Sunlight filters through the emerald leaves,
casting shadows that sway in grace,
the redwoods hum a timeless ballad,
as if each tree is a guardian of space.

Roots delve deep in communion with earth,
a silent dialogue, an ancient bond,
in the stillness, hear the redwoods’ tale,
whispered tales of strength and beyond.

Among the giants, a pilgrim walks,
humility carved in the lines of the face,
for in the redwoods’ cathedral of green,
we find solace, a sacred resting place.