Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper secrets soft and low. Their branches sway in the midnight breeze, Carrying tales through centuries with ease. A traveler pauses, listening to the sound, Where wisdom in every rustle is found. Of mountains high and rivers deep, Promises the trees forever keep. Though seasons change and years may pass, Their evergreen truth shadows cast. In stillness, a timeless song they sing— A quiet gift that nature brings.
