A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance on liquid, flowing light. A lone goose cries, the empty valley fills With echoes fading into gentle night. No fisherman’s song breaks the stillness here, Just moonbeams weaving dreams on waters deep. A world adorned in grace, so crystal clear, While mountains guard the secrets that they keep. This peace transcends all words man can impart, A silent poetry that fills the heart.
