🦉WIse OWL CHRONICLES🦉

In the stillness of the early glow, morning hangs & the earth hums low, you feel it strong despite that it moves along.

A petal falls, it’s smallest grace, it’s shadow lingers leaves its trace.

This fleeting day, beauty hides where light will stay

The stream murmurs through the pines, sunlight plays on crooked vines. In the cracks of anchient stone roots break through still overgrown. A wonder where wild things press; a gentle chaos nothing less.

So when the light begins to fade and twilight begins it’s overlay

Remember the golden air that is with us and always there