Here Stands a Tree: Fall

The birds flown south for

the growing promise of

winter harsh and cold.

Leaves brown and falling.

Pigs at the roots crunching

and devouring all that fell.

The trunk cracked and rotting.

Red syrup trickles down

disturbing our traveler’s slumber.

Their cheek

bruised and blue. Their

throat crushed and closed from

                                                      t          he trampling of hog  s

                                                                       bloodth      irsty

                                                          w             ith

power

         an          d

                                                         r                 ag e.

Over the horizon 

a blizzard approaches.

Death and pestilence come

with murderous intent.

A perverted justice called 

hate . . .

J

Artist: Nataliya Stupak