A loud silence, cold in nature.

Hiding sleeping animals in the

frozen earth. They will awaken in summer.

And leave their burrows empty.

The snow pray on those who awaken.

And the wind chases those who stir.

When there is the scorching sunset

The fire in the sky bounces light off the trees.

Shadows dance in the bright colours.

Warmth fills the air as the sun goes to bed.

Saying good morning to the nature that now

awoke in the darkness.

Owls and bats open their beady eyes.

The fire leaves, letting shadows take over,

and cold ash fill the air.

The sunset makes many close their eyes,

But creatures at bay awake.

Ready to thrive in the world left without light

The dead mists

The mist lay over the forest in a thick blanket.

The natural sounds disappear and ghostly

wails sat in. An unnatural chill in the air.

Ghosts appear in large prospections.

Animals scatter to burrows as the ones

with no voice rise. Ready to torment

any living creature.

A single light leads the march.

The soldiers, invisible in the mist,

the lost war cry heard in the air.

A faint whisper on the wind.

The light draws in animals who are foolish.

But will we ever see them again?