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 and spring’s new vows,

While constellations slowly turn

Above this eternal, steadfast fern.