The Ravens are busy telling stories

Outside my window.

They have the most recognizable voices.

The sweet, sweet smell of clover

And the melody of the bees working so

Diligently as I walk through the fields.

(I remember how afraid i once was of the bees)

This song of the wind

Brings harmony to my carefully

Placed bare footsteps kissing the

Soil.

I do not wish to crush anyone

Or anything.