Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream Of lonely winds that hum and sigh Through branches brushing starry sky. A traveler paused to hear its tale— Of winter’s bite and spring’s warm gale, Of roots that clutch the stony ground Where timeless secrets lie unbound. The tree has stood a thousand years, Has witnessed joy and tasted tears, Yet still it breathes with quiet grace, A living ode to time and space. Now weary souls who pass this way Find strength beneath it...