Sylva.

Secrets of the wood are growing wild and free, in light and poetry.
I capture the portraits of wildflowers and their souls blossoming in nature like a painting.

— Perwinke —
In the darkness of the woods, A solitary queen awoke.
Unveiling a crown of gold and turquoise, she started to sing the aria of Dawn.

— Sunlight Secret — 
Through the wilder paths, The forest whispers as the dawn rises,
there is a sense of wonder growing from the earth, The scent of a new spring lingers in the air.

— Prelude to Dawn — 
As sunshine flows into their petals, Splendor in the morning grass,
The Flowers have spoken to me, In fragments of poetry.

— Wildflowers’ Song —
Hidden gardens of frail flowers
Of silk and rose, they whisper in the depths, Embracing my soul with longing words.

— Scarlet Fern —
Crimson twilight in the woodland alley,
The wintry wind blows the autumn away, Draping the leaves of ice and ruby.

— Iced Bloom — 
Crystal bloom in the fire frost, Sunlight soul in the crisp Winter,
The delicacy of the first sunbeam, That heats the cold morning.

— Les Promesses de la Rosée —
Forests are a realm, a realm of absolute wonder. Full of mysteries and treasures.
The Soul of Nature murmurs its secrets for those who listen. Full of hope and freedom.