November 3, 2014 - 18:53
Starting on the ground, light oranges turn into pinks that transform into blurred purples. Above, globs of purple fade into a murky orange. Looming trees hang above, deadly. They stretch and claw at the sky.
Slight shakes, crunches, wisps disturb the calm, mostly still forest. Leaves rattle against each other, touching other trees, plants. Animals hop, imbedding their print, yet not hurting the ground they tread on.
Branches overlap above creating a webbed canopy. The canopy is strong yet giving and welcoming. Pockets of light shine through creating shapes and figures in the sky.
Logs rest, swollen, crumpled, barren on the ground. There is this strange feeling of loneliness. Colors have faded and are disappearing.
The wind is chilling and draws attention to crumpled, disfigured leaves and sharp, brave pine needles.