A tree stands tall in the mist,
Its leaves a shimmering green,
A sentinel of steadfastness,
A symbol of what has been.

A longer version:

In the early morning haze,
The tree stands tall and proud,
Its leaves afire with the rising sun,
As the mist rolls in like a shroud.

The dew clings to its branches,
And the fog envelops every leaf,
As the birds take flight in its canopy,
And the day begins its rhythmic beat.

The tree is rooted deep and strong,
A sentinel in the fog,
A symbol of steadfastness,
As the mist creeps in like a log.

For though the mist may obscure,
The tree stands tall and true,
A beacon in the fog,
A symbol of resilience and virtue.

So let us stand like the tree,
In the midst of life's uncertainty,
With strength and grace,
And a heart full of serenity.