Today, I walked
along a river girded by concrete
as fall's cold hand caressed the sage nearby

Today, I walked
among hundreds of shades of sepia, brown, vermillion
as I heard my footfalls distinctly, with no green, dewy foliage
to soften my heavy steps

Today, I walked
among the surrendering of Naure
to  fall's cold hand, which caressed the sage nearby

What parts of me are dry
What parts of me are brown, with no verve
What can soften my heavy footfalls

Today, I walked

Ice Age, Cold Days, Winter Time
there's this thing that dont change
we devour naure as we live for our benefits
we keep living and believing as if there's no consequences
where did love go?
when it is needed the most
where did inspiration go?
to our natures thomb?
many battles are celebrated and mourned
many pecies are filling the earths grave
many glasses are opened and made
but why cant we all take time to heal
our mother nature's wound