Howling from the forest,
Wintertime is on the way.
A sea breeze turns wild,
clouds move overhead.
Woods once silent, now
move in urgency to the sky.
Many crows do fly across the sky,
to show us a Portent of Death.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Howling from the forest,
Wintertime is on the way.
A sea breeze turns wild,
clouds move overhead.
Woods once silent, now
move in urgency to the sky.
Many crows do fly across the sky,
to show us a Portent of Death.