Leaves borne on the wind drift toward the flames. Some are veined in tangled lines, tracing feuds of home and …
Leaves borne on the wind drift toward the flames.
Some are veined in tangled lines, tracing feuds of home and land; others, light as snowflakes, bear the mist of distant mountains. They tumble and twirl, sometimes in clusters, sometimes alone, drawn to the burning horizon.
Gather the leaves before they are seared by the fire. Perhaps you'll hear their voices, hidden in the wind.