Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lone wolf howls to stars above, Echoing tales of timeless love. Two ancient pines on ridge stand tall, Whose roots entwine through stone and wall, They’ve witnessed wars and peace profound, Their whispered secrets haunt the ground. A traveler rests beneath their boughs, Hearing nature’s sacred vows, The wind recites old poetry— Of seasons’ dance and destiny. At dawn he leaves with lighter soul, The pines’ wisdom ...
