In a birchwood hush where daylight gleams,
Red leaves flutter like flickering dreams.
They kiss the sky with wild, bold grace,
A flame of fall in nature’s embrace.
White trunks rise like candles lit,
Their bark aglow where colors flit.
A symphony in russet and gold,
Telling stories never old.
The air—so crisp—draws breath anew,
While branches sketch the autumn hue.
And in that quiet, painted trance,
The forest waltzes its fiery dance.
