In the curves, he sits facing the mountains.
None on the roads, green everywhere.
Crimson rays creeping out of the ranges
Cirrostratus as a cherry on top, wrapping blues.
Firm hands and eyes had distinct insights.
Guided us into the woods, a less traveled path
His domicile and the leaves were entangled
Warmth was lavishly dumped over animals
Through the thickets of darkness, he walks unfazed
Shadows deep in the night don't change the path.
Fireceful wilds, pouring rives, undaunted silence
He stands still in his might, unwavering.
For he captures beauty far and wide
At every glance, every take, barely any escapes
His lens frames the wild, serene, and profound.
Bringing out novel and timeless stories
With his gentle hands, he tends the land,
Picking up the trash from ev’ry strand possible.
No bottles, no labels, and no wrappers left behind
For the defend of the woods, in almost all acts.
Knowing to shield the woods and greens,
Answering the quests of the world's decay,
Where roads were built and trees were cut.
Yet, failing to protect him from the perils of ciggy
Cheers!
PS: Check out Dissonance & others