Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lone crane soars through misted skies With ancient wisdom in its eyes. The pines whisper tales of forgotten years, Of joy and sorrow, hopes and fears. A fisherman’s song drifts on the breeze, Echoing through the rustling trees. Time flows like water, endless deep, While memories the heart doth keep. In nature’s calm, all souls may find The peace that lingers in the mind.
