photographer, videographer, writer

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The season to begin the dying

Everything is restless
There’s a warning in the wind
It’s sneaking into places
That for months it hasn’t been
It's poking chilly fingers into corners that were warm
theres a chilling foggy mist swirling in the trees
Leaving tiny frigid kisses on your face and neck and fingertips
The wind evoking creaks and groans from ghostly timber corpses
Sad sighs and frets of crisping leaves shivering together
It’s been a long and grueling summer
with extremes from end to end
There’s never enough water
and the sun has been ferocious
When the rain has showed itself
its violent and destructive
As the season to begin the dying creeps across the land
I’ll welcome it with open arms
for easeful rest, peace of mind
and blissful silent wanders through the empty moody woods
Just dog and me and sleepy trees
and bits of poems and words to write stirring up my mind
to match the cadence of my stride.

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