Autumn comes and the alabaster nights and the cool breezes move the wayward clouds and the sweet air brings us the mysteries of romance and the certainties of futures bitter sweet and endlessly charming.
The waifs and the hunters, the scurrying flocks in the sky and in the forests of our comfort meander through the air pockets and thickest of ill tidings to follow the grand natural plans for their wonder, their survival, their sweet encystment within the protective walls of sun and sky.
The world is welcoming the seasons of reflection and mist and the world is ready for the warm comforts of nurturing brews. The camp fires and the cool night air begs peace and calm.
Listen to the mocking birds.
Power seeks no pastoral pictures.
Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis….
The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…