Warriors

Warriors seldom survive the toughest storms, but as they watch their kin fall. 

They think their kin well, but watch until they wither without, or topple with too much. And what then? The days wear on. 

Warriors arch as the years wax and wane. The quiver lies on bowstring as owl rests on bough.

And in time, light will come to rest on awaiting limbs.

Peace whispers. Slivers of silver under moonlight. 

Warriors once smooth form furrows. And what then? Blossoms decay, and life unfurls.

Through thunder they take flight, but as they watch their kin fall.