nourished
by the decaying
collective
the spirits
of our ancestors
whisper
through
their branches
adorned
with loving trinkets
they bow
their heads
in omniscient reverence
for the dead
Making the most of these moments, most of the time.
Making the most of these moments, most of the time.
One of my favorite sounds – the whisper of wind in the trees. A peace sound – kind of like ocean waves sound or a crackling fire.