“My sister fir 82 birthday who loves nature”

Eighty-two years, and still you roam  
Where wildflowers sway and robins call,  
You seek the quiet woodland’s home,  
And hear the whispered wind enthrall.  
Your garden hums with honeybee,  
Soft laughter spills where lilacs grow.  
You teach the world to pause and see  
Small wonders only you could know.

You wade through meadows, dew-bright, bold,  
And trace your hands on mossy stone;  
You find the magic, green and gold,  
That others pass and leave alone.  
The maples lift a leafy cheer,  
The river shimmers at your feet;  
Each path you walk grows bright and clear,  
And every birdsong sounds more sweet.

Your gaze still finds the softest bloom—  
A violet hiding, shy and small—  
You make the sun break through the gloom,  
You feel the heartbeat of it all.  
Sister, with age your spirit grows  
Like ivy twined upon the years—  
Each memory, a wild rose,  
Each day, a petal free of fears.

So here’s to eighty-two, and more—  
To trails to hike, and fields to roam,  
To nature’s wild and wondrous lore,  
And all the earth you’ve made your home.  
May morning light, and gentle rain,  
And every tree that bends above  
Remind you—always, yet again—  
How much you’re cherished, held, and loved.

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