Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a stream Where laughing children once would play And chase the summer light away. A traveler paused with weary feet, Heard whispers in the twilight sweet— The wind through needles hummed a tune Of forgotten kings and monsoons. One pine cone fell upon the moss, A tiny treasure, lightly tossed, Containing worlds yet to unfold: Stories older than the cold. So rest your head and listen close, For nature guards what we miss most— Each bo...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a stream Where laughing children once would play And chase the summer light away. A traveler paused with weary feet, Heard whispers in the twilight sweet— The wind through needles hummed a tune Of forgotten kings and monsoons. One pine cone fell upon the moss, A tiny treasure, lightly tossed, Containing worlds yet to unfold: Stories older than the cold. So rest your head and listen close, For nature guards what we miss most— Each bo...