Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, With tales of hope, of life, of love. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s dark. The wind carries a timeless song— Of journeys short and pathways long. Though seasons change and years may pass, The pine still stands in mountain grass. Its roots run deep, its voice stays true, A steadfast friend to morning dew. So pause awhile and you might hear, The wisd...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, With tales of hope, of life, of love. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s dark. The wind carries a timeless song— Of journeys short and pathways long. Though seasons change and years may pass, The pine still stands in mountain grass. Its roots run deep, its voice stays true, A steadfast friend to morning dew. So pause awhile and you might hear, The wisd...