Sitting quietly upon a tree
The soft breeze
No sound but that of a faint bee
And the ushering of leaves
The timid blue sky above lets light to flow
Oh look, there’s a crow
Screams from the right and from the left and the shaking of the trees the dark figures attacking all the drumming on the trees underneath the footsteps the leaves crack and limbs fall to their death they do not stop until we lose our breath and they continue their ferocious moves unable to be shaken from their paths they overpower us with sticks they confuse us what is happening
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