Life is not a walk in the park

Not a nice park anyway

Yes, there are trees and flowers

And lovely sunsets too

But

Under the picture-perfect skies

The brutal game is on

The werewolves are on the hunt

The animals flee

Their screams are drowned by the chirping

Of birds preening themselves under the sun

They run

And are tripped up by gnarly roots

They die

And  flowers grow over their bones

Competing for the most garish colors

This is our park.

Care for a walk?