Broad and baron, the spawn of something grand and vicious pears in the north sky. It’s foolish, and cantankerous at the end of the Season. The broad tumor of an adulterous race, that only brings bated periods of much needed fresh air. Laughter ceases in this land, it bares no fruit of life in these hills. Will this end, will we ever see the light that we anticipate its triumphant revival. Until then, we press forward regardless of the reminder of the days of old.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger