The Forest's Connection

Golden Wattle Trees,
With their spiky leaves,
Soft flowers, 
All dancing in the breeze, 
Warmth from the sun, 
Feel the trees as they hum, 
All connected, 
Together as one.
The forest sings,
About the birds and their wings,
About all the waterholes,
And their teachings.
The luscious green canopy,
My drawing is an almost perfect copy,
I fix up the leaves,
And move on to drawing a poppy.
A bird lands on a dirt mound,
I gasp at what I've found,
And as I watch the rare sight I get sleepy,
And my head slowly lowers to the ground.