A cool breath of morning mist lays itself across the water,

where pathways break the wooded edge, it probes the leafy tracks.

 

Green and dappled reds announce the warming rays,

rustling snouts and gentle song rise to fill the dawning cracks.

 

Beyond this unseen miracle we shuffle ourselves awake,

inviting news and noise, we break the fragility of nature’s spell.

 

Unforgiving, we chase away the beauty of our absence,

thoughtlessly we turn what seemed a heaven into something more like hell.

 

https://wolfgarwords.com/2025/06/27/the-harrowing/