rain and drought am i sunlit vale and shadowed glen all and none collide
Wildly, the rooted dandelion throws itself to the waiting wind.
The mist only stays On the pond for a minute. We didn’t miss it. *title credit to a sentence I found carved in a tree at Fontenelle Forest in the plains of Nebraska
The trees are changing; Some straight to death, brown and frail, Jealous of the gold.