Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine stands tall and deep, Guarding secrets all forests keep. Its needles trace the stars above, Whispering tales of timeless love - Of travelers resting in its shade, Of promises beneath branches made. Two centuries its roots have grown Through storms and seasons it has known, Yet every spring it wears new green, A living bridge ‘tween heard and unseen. Tonight the wind sings through its boughs Of winter’s end ...
