Black pane, white chips
My bones are cold
Watching this storm unfold

Sweet as lily of the valley on a crisp spring morning,
But thunderstorms brew like black tea
As white tails bound to cross hatched nests

Don't bite the hand that feeds you
...Unless it is the only thing left

Tell me you love me.
So I can shout from the roof tops
that it simply isn't true.

We must reap what we roe
God let mere mortal show
To death the embryo
A dark society that I know

Kick the stars he said
Their dust will grace the mountain
Let their light bring day

The rib cage turns a familiar pale yellow,
Autumnal sun conjures swaths of warm air
Red fox colored leaves make bed for small fellow

But old man winter doth draft a plan
Across the meadows and through the land
He'll reap whats sowed- and not less than

Dust to dust one becomes at night
Though spring winds carry new life
Small creatures wake before the light