Ode to the Cougar Stein

On a shelf of tales and timbered dreams, Rests a chalice carved from mountain themes. White as snow where the cougars prowl, With amber rim like a twilight howl.

It speaks in script both bold and bare: Of North’s great cat with a silent stare. A whispering ghost through canyon and pine, Etched in clay, now sipped in time.

From rustic wood to a wanderer’s grip, It holds more than just a cooling sip— It holds a legend, fierce and free, Poured with pride and mystery.