A crisp day of fall

The forest floor rustles as the hooves fall upon, the scattered, rusted maple leaves on the first autumn morn. The little robin flies to trees and tweets its little song, hiding in the foliage when autumn comes along. Trees are almost stripped to twigs getting barer with the breeze, the cold beast howls in distance…

Peace over war

Blight shadows every cranny there’s war, there’s pain, and we continue doing so calling ourselves humane. We stain the rivers in perpetual blood and drink water from the same, we talk about wilderness beneath while calling ourselves tame. We send a group of children to school and give rifles to other groups, we sit around…