Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A silent forest holds a dream.

Where ancient pines in whispers speak,

Of mountain secrets, strong and deep.

A traveler walks with weary feet,

On paths where earth and heaven meet.

He hears the breeze through branches sigh,

And glimpses stars in night’s dark sky.

One towering tree with bark so wise,

Reflects the light in patient eyes.

Its roots run deep through time and stone,

A testament to ages known.

The man sits down to rest awhile,

And learns to wear a gentle smile.

For in the quiet, he can hear,

The peace that banishes all fear.

At dawn he rises, born anew,

With heart refreshed by morning dew.

The pines still whisper as he goes—

Carrying their calm where’er he roes.