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Ann Hunter's Natures Speak

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The
Cold
Winter
Winds
have
been
Blustery
All Day
for
Little
Regard
for
Anyone
Within
Them..
As
He
Continues
to
Push On
as
He
walks
the
old mountain road
Hopefully Reaching
his cabin before Sundown.
As another gust blows back against him as he lowers his head and buries his old hands deeper into his tattered jacket with his boots nearly slipping on the almost icy fill upon the scattered soil beneath them.
He Hoped
he
still had
cut wood waiting to light a quick fire to warm
his
cold bones
for
he
had not
been here in a while.
He often gets dropped off at the end of the narrow road as he has hiked these many miles for years no matter the weather offered.
The Very Fibers of Nature appear to have somehow
Become
a
Part of Him
as
He
Considers
This
Aged Landscape
His
Home.
And later tonight the door will creak as he carefully opens
it
to
Once Again
Enter
His
Favorite Abode.
Where
the
Oil Lamp
is
Well
Lit
sitting
by
his
old cot
and
Where
His
Spirit
Remains
Truly
Free..

Ann Hunter's Natures Speak

https://www.facebook.com/hunterreads/

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