In forest deep, the oak does stand,

Its branches stretch, a king’s command.

Through summer’s heat and winter’s cold,

Its sturdy form does ever hold.

By river’s edge, the willow weeps,

Its leaves a curtain, secrets keep.

It bends and sways in gentle breeze,

A dancer in the moonlit seas.

In springtime’s bloom, the cherry tree,

Its blossoms fair, a sight to see.

A fleeting beauty, but oh so bright,

A symphony of pink and white.

On mountain high, the pine trees grow,

Their needles whisper, soft and low.

In silence strong, they guard the land,

A steadfast presence, grand and grand.

In ancient groves, the redwoods rise,

Their towering forms touch distant skies.

Through centuries they stand, unyielding, tall,

A testament to nature’s thrall.