The Welsh Oak Tree Talks To The Daffodil -Poem

The Welsh Oak Tree Talks To The Daffodil  -Poem.
In a tranquil field where green hills rise,
Beneath the vast Welsh skies,
An ancient oak and a daffodil,
Began their chat with quiet thrill.

The oak tree spoke with a voice of age,
“I had a grey squirrel today as my sage,
It scampered up my trunk so high,
And a robin perched in the boughs nearby.”

The daffodil swayed in a gentle breeze,
“And I had a guest too, if you please,
A beetle landed upon my bloom,
Its tiny feet a brief, sweet boom.”

The oak replied with a rustling sound,
“Twenty worms now gather ‘round,
They till the earth beneath my roots,
In the twilight, they begin their pursuits.”

The daffodil brightened and shared with glee,
“A young woman took a photo of me,
She said I was beautiful, a sight to behold,
Her words were warm, her smile bold.”

They spoke of the sun high in the sky,
Its golden rays passing by,
Of rain that fell with a soothing song,
On the oak’s leaves where they belong.

As evening settled, the day made way,
For the night’s gentle, silvered sway,
A crescent moon hung soft and bright,
Guiding stars through the velvet night.

“The stars,” whispered the daffodil fair,
“Shine like the eyes of the universe there,
They watch over us, ancient and wise,
In their glow, the world lies.”

The oak tree nodded, leaves a-shimmer,
“Our stories live in this field's glimmer,
In the sun, the rain, and the starry pool,
The night is our shelter, serene and cool.”

And so they stood in the quiet night,
The oak tree strong, the daffodil light,
In their field in Wales, where tales are spun,
They dream beneath the stars, until the dawn’s first run.