# The Whispering Pines

By [Untitled](https://paragraph.com/@0x34e89bc310efc95dadf652d7fa59cb2157e06d54-2) · 2025-08-25

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Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine forest stands in dream.

Its needles murmur tales untold,

Of winters harsh and summers gold.

A traveler paused one starlit night,

Hearing whispers in fading light.

They spoke of love and courage vast,

Echoes from a timeless past.

Through every season, steadfast still,

On windy ridge and silent hill.

These sentinels of nature’s grace,

Watch over time and endless space.

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*Originally published on [Untitled](https://paragraph.com/@0x34e89bc310efc95dadf652d7fa59cb2157e06d54-2/the-whispering-pines)*