Through Fall’s bright leaves,
sunlight filters down.
Some green mixed in, but
a cool wind hints at
the approaching winter.
In this quiet wood,
a wire fence stands,
running through trees,
no posts to be found.
In times gone by,
the wire strung
-biting through-
yet the tree grew ‘round.
I stoke the scar
-following the wire unseen below-
Once on the outside, now incorporated in.
The original bond, weak and bleeding,
yet now,
the two, one and the same-
the rough bark and smooth wire,
the inward wood and wire running through.
StableDiffusion
StableDiffusion
StableDiffusion
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