the trees

In the heart of the forest, where shadows dance,

The trees stand tall in a silent trance.

Their leaves rustle softly in the breeze,

As they whisper secrets among the trees.

In the center of it all, a wise old oak,

Stands proud and strong, his branches spoke.

His roots run deep, his wisdom vast,

A guardian of the forest, from first to last.

The other trees gather around him,

Eager to hear his words so prim.

He speaks of ages long gone by,

Of storms and fires that made them cry.

The trees listen with bated breath,

As the wise old oak speaks of life and death.

He tells them of the cycle of the seasons,

Of growth and change, and their many reasons.

The forest comes alive with their conversation,

Each tree sharing its own revelation.

They speak of the sun, the moon, the stars,

And the beauty of nature that is never far.

As day turns to night and night to day,

The trees continue their gentle sway.

For in the heart of the forest, under the wise old tree,

There is always a conversation, for all to see.