longer.blue

Of Ash and Tempest #poetry In the broken winter, the drift basked in snowy fervor, a bright sun bakes the tall, hearty weeds. A warm contrast to the otherwise frozen landscape, entrapping wild, sleeping souls. The hostile wastes; thrived by many, within moments, the air filled with cinders. Burning their lungs, pulling the taiga to dismay. Felling the old growth groves, a grand usurper of the calm winds, bringing great destruction to the forest storm. A mix of snowfall and ash cloud the skies, culling the gentle pine and beloved spruce. Lignin pulled to pieces, leaves shredded to bits, all buried deep below the restless snowbanks. In charred remains lie tragedy; unintelligible to their faulty, human eyes.