In groves they stand, with silent grace.

Their branches weave a verdant lace.

From earth to sky, their forms ascend.

A testament to time they send.

 

Their leaves, a chorus in the breeze,

Whisper secrets, rustling with ease.

Beneath their boughs, a tranquil hush,

Where shadows play in dappled blush.

 

Roots delve deep, anchoring the land.

A steadfast grip, both firm and grand.

Through seasons' dance, they steadfast grow,

In winter's chill and summer's glow.

 

Each tree a story, ancient and wise,

Witness to the changing skies.

In forest halls, their whispers free,

A timeless ode to harmony.