Tag Archives: old-growth tree


In a way, I’ve walked into a thorny, gnarled forest.

It’s not the old-growth oaks and not even the thorns and tricky underbrush that trips up my step.

It’s the eyes watching me, those fiery opals embedded in the shadows.

They scrutinize me and they scrutinize them and they scrutinize each other.

They’re abysmal.

Leave a comment

Filed under Writing