Don’t Fear the Orb Spider!

In the garden’s gentle web, she spins her art,
A giant banded orb, both bold and smart,
With stripes of yellow, black, she weaves her grace,
Don’t fear this spider, know her rightful place.

She hangs with patience, watching from above,
Her purpose clear, to feast on insects, and to love,
Not people, never them, her gentle plan,
To keep our world in balance, nature’s hand.

So when you see her, don’t retreat in fright,
Her gentle nature shines in morning light,
Respect her space, for in her web she’ll dwell,
A guardian of our garden, we must tell.

Embrace this orb, resplendent in her grace,
A helpful friend, she finds her rightful place,
In nature’s tapestry, her role is clear,
To keep our world in balance, never fear.

Van Sloth

In a forest grove where time stands still,
Lives Van Sloth, with an artistic skill.
Brush in hand, so patient and slow,
Paints like Van Gogh, with colors that flow.

His strokes are deliberate, his pace so serene,
Every masterpiece a languid dream.
The stars in the night, they twinkle and gleam,
On his canvas, they dance in a cosmic stream.

With each stroke of his brush, a story unfolds,
A world of wonder, in hues of gold.
Sunflowers droop, in the sun’s warm embrace,
As Van Sloth captures their languid grace.

His art may be slow, but it’s worth the wait,
For the beauty he creates is truly great.
Van Sloth, the painter of tranquil delight,
In his unhurried world, he finds his light.

Lament of the Fallen Trees

In the heart of the forest, silent and deep,
Lies a tale of the fallen, their secrets to keep.
Once proud and majestic, they stood tall and free,
Now they whisper their sorrow, the lament of the tree.

Beneath the emerald canopy, they danced with the breeze,
Leaves shimmering like gold in the dappled sun’s tease.
But the chainsaw’s cruel bite and relentless song,
Left them scarred and broken, their lives tragically wrong.

In the stillness of twilight, their spirits still mourn,
For the homes of the birds and the creatures, now torn.
Their rings held stories of ages gone by,
Of storms they had weathered, under the endless sky.

They weep for the rivers, the streams, and the rills,
For the soil that once cradled their roots, now stills.
The forest grows thinner, its heartache profound,
As they sigh in the moonlight, their voices resound.

Let us heed this lament, let us learn from their plight,
To cherish the trees and protect them with might.
For their sacrifice whispers, a plea in the breeze,
To preserve Mother Earth, her wonders and trees.

The Iridescent Beauty of the Carpenter Bee

In gardens bathed in golden light,
A carpenter bee takes its flight,
With wings of sapphire, shimmering bright,
Iridescent beauty, a wondrous sight.

Its body carved with nature’s grace,
A velvet touch, in colors’ embrace,
Amidst the blooms, it finds its place,
A ballet in air, with elegant grace.

From petal to petal, it gently weaves,
A tapestry of life, as the day conceives,
In pollen’s bounty, it joyfully receives,
Nature’s secret dance, the bee achieves.

Oh, carpenter bee, in the sun’s warm glow,
Your iridescence makes the garden’s show,
In your flight, a symphony, aglow,
A treasure of nature, we’re blessed to know.

Busy Buzzy Bees

Among the blossoms, a buzzing choir,
Bees flutter and hum, their wings afire.
In golden sunlight, they dance and sway,
Creating a masterpiece, day by day.

With gentle touch, they kiss each bloom,
Gathering pollen, banishing gloom.
A symphony of life, a vibrant blend,
Nature’s harmonious gift, they send.

They toil tirelessly, from dawn till dusk,
Sipping sweet nectar, an ambrosial musk.
Pollinating flowers, a sacred pact,
Life’s tapestry woven, intact.

In their intricate flight, a sacred art,
Guided by instinct, playing their part.
Tiny miracles, with grace they bestow,
Breathing life into gardens that grow.

So let us cherish these creatures small,
Their delicate wings, a wonder for all.
For in their humble labour, we see,
The magic of nature’s symphony.

A Riverside Stroll

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