the wind whispers, and the meadows listen
the trees croak, and the stream glistens
songbirds play a tune, and the old man whistles fondly

the sun glares high while the shadows fade
tall grass waves at the hills
the buzz of cicadas cuts through the humid air

the woodpecker’s knock fades to a tap
the breeze turns chill
the sun simmers with violety glow

the trees breathe a sigh
the stars, a dim lit sky
night laid bare with no moon

rest well, good nature