Rolling green meadows, as far as the eye can see
Sweet-scent of clover, lingering in a warm summer's breeze.
The woods lined, thickened with trees
As grapevines sweep wildly, among some dangling leaves.
A weeping willow, swaying low to the ground
As the whirl of a windmill, spins softly without a sound.
Some mornings glisten, a crispness with dew
As sun rises in colors, displaying its heavenly view.
Spikes on cornstalks, ready for harvest reap
Sweet apples nurturing, in orchards of trees.
Melodies of songbirds, echoing in flight
The call of the owl, as night begins to fall.