The Whispering Willow
A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman sits beneath it, mending his net with gnarled hands. He speaks to the tree as if to an old friend, sharing tales of storms weathered and seasons changed. The wind carries his whispers away, blending them with the rustle of leaves. Children sometimes come to hear his stories, their eyes wide with wonder at tales of silver carp that shine like moonlight and herons that dance at dawn. H...
The Whispering Willow
A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman sits beneath it, mending his net with gnarled hands. He speaks to the tree as if to an old friend, sharing tales of storms weathered and seasons changed. The wind carries his whispers away, blending them with the rustle of leaves. Children sometimes come to hear his stories, their eyes wide with wonder at tales of silver carp that shine like moonlight and herons that dance at dawn. H...
