Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its needles trace tales on the breeze— Of mountain paths and frozen seas. A traveler pauses in the night, His lantern casting fragile light. He hears the tree’s enduring song— How seasons change, yet hope stays long. The wind carries this sage refrain Through valleys, cities, joy and pain. Each rustling branch reminds the earth: From tiny seeds, great dreams have birth. (Word count: 78)
