the fare of leaves
a poem
the comfort of now is a fee postponed to fell a tree and char its wood for warmth tonight, is to pluck the air from a grandchild’s breath tomorrow. whether we care to look close enough or not; every choice bears a price tag.
Ok well wow. I thought the audio forms offered little until this! Makes me wish I had an amazing sounding voice too. Your gift is 💫
You got skills