the sun scatters gold across sky,
heating the earth with a fierce pyre,
while the squirrel prance around, witness of a playful dance,
like a flicker of fur and grace, through the branches.
in early morning, the cuckoo sings, sweet and clear,
its echoes slipping around the orchards, a warning sound,
the tree’s secrets, forever green,fierce and are forgotten near,
in the cradle of leaves, where peace is found.
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