Changing Canvas

I was in jungle, Deep woods with plenty of dense green, A meandering river flowed through the middle, And there was a rocky terrain well caved on its west bound, The pathways were skewed and well spread, Made only of original mud, There were animals, birds and more of them, Spread everywhere, They had homes, vistas and what not, I was ambling swooshing in mounds of free oxygen, Careful of not encountering anything hostile or feline, Suddenly my companion saw the “tree”, They said it was the oldest with girth running almost free, I said may be it was older than a century or two, They replied perhaps it was older, And the jungle was before it in temporal yonder, I picked one leaf which had fallen from a wild tree, And thought and saw as far as my eyes could see, How many times this tree had sent down fallen leaves, Before it was born, How many more of trees were born and perished, Before this tree was born, Here there is a an ant mound and there you have serpentine abode, Deers have their dry grasses thrashed out, Peacocks look out for small bushes to nest in, Wild boars wander around and rest in thrushed burroughs, Foxes are placed in small stony holes, While felines couch on trees, Or choose the more spacious caves, Everything is spread out randomly, As if by some kind of animal will, The canvas of nature has this drawing for centuries, And it has remained so, While in the same interregnum, We humans have graduated from being animals, And totally changed the drawing on canvas.