The deer were bounding like blown leaves. The cardinals gliding like clouds. The smoke rising like Angels carry it away. The Autumn smell seeping into the air. The brisk wind sends a refreshing shiver down the spine. The hands calloused from collecting wood. The soothing flames flickering in the fire. The sweet silence of leaves falling. The peaceful songs of the birds chirping. The rhythm of my breath calming me. The burden of people no longer here. Just a fire; in the woods. … I tend to the fire, A simple relationship: I give it wood, It gives me warmth.
I am Joe Larson and I believe this to be my best piece of work.