Hiding softly your true nature, the white underbelly marks the spot visible amid the shades.
Pieces of yourself are strewn between the firs and maples, scattered like leaves by the breeze.
The trees, talking openly with wind, seed your mind with fallow thoughts.
You aptly dow to deal with difficulty, mistakes becoming a seldom moment.
Intent frolicks like the hills in the rolling fields, botched cuts in the heart of the matter.
Accessing survival is skill in exceeding every success.