Dogwood Tree

Beneath the canopy of the dogwood tree,
Where blooms of white whisper secrets to the breeze,
I stroll alone, lost in reverie,
As shadows dance 'neath the dappled leaves.

In springtime's embrace, the blossoms unfurl,
A symphony of petals, pure and bright,
Their fragrance, a memory that gently swirls,
In the golden glow of fading light.

Yet, as summer yields to autumn's sigh,
The dogwood's hues begin to change,
A tapestry of crimson, gold, and rye,
A silent ode to seasons rearranged.

And when the winter winds begin to blow,
And frost adorns each branch with lace,
The dogwood stands, resilient and slow,
A sentinel of time and space.

Oh, dogwood tree, in your silent grace,
You teach me lessons, both old and new,
Of beauty found in every place,
And the quiet strength that sees us through.