Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Two ancient pines share secrets deep. Their branches weave a timeless theme While weary mountains lie asleep. A traveler pauses by their stand, Hearing whispers in the breeze - Tales of centuries in the land, Carried through rustling leaves. The stars above blink silently, Witnesses to this old exchange. In nature’s quiet symphony, Eternal truths feel never strange. He walks away at break of dawn, Carrying stories newly heard - Of roots that cling to rock...
