Tales of the Thicket

In the mist-bound woods where shadows play,
The clockwork owl hoots at the break of day.
In its eyes, ancient stories and forgotten sighs,
Woven tight in the fabric of time's gentle loom.

A path meanders, kissed by dappled light,
Through the whispers of an emerald might.
A clockwork heart beats in time with the breeze,
In gears and springs, the woodland breathes.

Echoes

Murmur

Pathways

Here, mechanical leaves rustle, secrets abound,
In the crook of a branch, mystery is found.
Beneath the thicket, a dream softly weaves,
The symphony of nature and clockwork reprieves.

The threads of the thicket, in twilight spun,
Tell stories of journeys that never are done.
With hands of brass, they tick the moment divine,
In eternal pauses, where the wild divines.