Beneath the canopy’s emerald hue,
Where sunlight drips like morning dew,
I wander paths the pines have known,
Through South Carolina’s heart, alone.

The woods breathe soft, a lullaby,
As Spanish moss sways in the sky.
The air is thick with stories told,
Of ancient roots and secrets old.

The swamp hums low, a murky song,
Where cypress knees rise, jagged, strong.
The water’s skin, a mirrored sheen,
Reflects the world in shades of green.

A heron stands, a sentinel,
Its gaze as deep as any spell.
The bullfrog croaks, the cricket trills,
The swamp is alive with unseen thrills.

The scent of earth, of moss, of rain,
A perfume wild, it stirs my brain.
Each step I take, the land replies,
With whispered tales and softened sighs.

The woods are vast, the swamp is wide,
Yet here, my soul finds peace inside.
For in this wild, untamed embrace,
I’ve found a sacred, hallowed place.

So let me wander, let me roam,
Through South Carolina’s woodland home.
For in these woods and swamps, I see,
The heartbeat of eternity.