My Home

Everything so green, so crisp, so clean. So dark.


The fringed branches of an ancient pine a hundred feet tall interlace with those of an oak, leaning in as in obsequiousness to its towering elder.



The crack of thunder announces the sky's intentions and the ominous darkness saunters in nurturing the shadows, encouraging mystery.



My thoughts turn to you as the scent of rain grows.



Would you like it here?



Would you revel in the green so vastly far from your concrete cage?



Would you get lost in this dark jungle or ache for your cold, clean walls?



Would this place, my home, fill you with life or earn your disdain?



As the rain begins to fall, dancing on crisp, green leaves and lightening dances across the sky in tune with thunders music,


I think of you.