Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a dream— Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Of winter’s hush and summer’s vows. A traveler paused in twilight’s glow, His heart weighed down by winds that blow. The tree shared stories etched in time: How stars compose their silent rhyme, How mountains hold both grief and grace In every weathered rock’s embrace. He left with needles in his hand And truths he came to understand— That roots run deep where sorrows lay, Yet br...
