The Slumbering Canopy

Roots grip the stones in quiet defiance, drawing breath from the forgotten damp, where moss swallows the echoes of the sun.

Above, the canopy weaves a twilight, a net of leaves sifting dust from light, catching the slow decay of passing seasons.

Here, the wind forgets its haste, wandering through the hollows of older wood, leaving only a dry, persistent whisper.