Winter has beaten the color from life

The dead rustling leaves and the old skeleton trees join in the chorus of death.

The wolf and the fox turn brown just to harmonize with this solemn song.

Then comes an out of tune chirp.

A bright crimson bird appears and ruins the corporate melody.

Nature attempts to swallow this unwanted distraction...

As I walk down the hallways the bland and boring make me want to conform.

I cannot however without losing an innate part of myself.

The hunters come for the easy target.

They will succeed in the end I am afraid

Is it any wonder we choose to fly away?