The morning sun : Poetry

The world unfurls, a canvas vast and deep,
Where nature's silent, ancient secrets sleep.
From verdant valley to the mountain's peak,
A symphony of wonders, softly speak.

The morning sun, a painter's golden hand,
Awakens slumbering beauty on the land.
It kisses dewdrops on a spider's lace,
And lights the meadow with a gentle grace.

The wildflowers bloom, in every shade so keen,
A vibrant tapestry, a living scene.
The forest breathes, its emerald canopy high,
Where dappled light filters from the sky.

A whispered breeze through leaves of oak and pine,
A rustling music, effortlessly divine.
The river flows, a silver, winding thread,
Over mossy stones, across its pebbled bed.