In the forests shade, a scout does tread, With silent steps, like whispers near, His senses keen, the path ahead, To guard his tribe from unknown fear. Beneath the canopy of green, Where shadows play and light does flicker, He moves with grace, unseen, serene, The forests secrets grow no thicker. Soft as the dew on mornings grass, He melts into the twilight veil, Where deer walk, he too will pass, Their paths converge without fail. The night it falls, the moons a glow, Among the pines and ancient trees, His journey continues, swift and slow, An echo in the evening breeze. By streams that murmur tales of old, He guards his tribe with heart and hand, In whispers brave, his stories told, A sentinel across the land. Each step a dance, each breath a prayer, The forest yields to silent feet, In darkened woods, his soul lays bare, His mission steadfast, sure and sweet. With dawn, the world awakens bright, Yet still he walks the shadowed ways, A guardian in quiet light, Unseen amidst the morning haze. Forever onward, paths entwined, With natures grace and spirits high, A warrior both fierce and kind, Where earth and heaven softly sigh.
Thank you for reading!
