The flatten beneath the stiff foliage is frozen. The cold, bracing tone invades my lungs, I exhale, my breath visible. I pace over fallen brushwood and tugged by awkward vines. A conspicuous red tail hawk screeches overhead, this is a mark of gain luck. in attendance is no path, no trail to stain our way, entirely an old, smooth railroad couch surrounded by fortifications of shale, blown up for the alleyway to keep in shape and sustained. The simply ties to prompt of the rail are the rotting, moss enclosed ties that a long time ago were a job of a passage that would retain the accepted procession over a lesser rivulet between two steep hills. I catch sight of a outwit burrow, and it's breakout originated is one of the hollowed railroad ties. I fancy to be a fox... The trekking down this mount is not easy, knotty blackberry greenery and fallen grass hinder progress. At the bottom, the small, sparkling wine rivulet is frozen at the edges, peripatetic under rocks and enduring its prehistoric path. I give the impression of being up the prominence that I emphatically descended, and be unsure how the arrival will go.
Heads up! Give life a charge!
Nature Speaks...