Driving down the road, watching the land, the sky, the naked trees reaching out to the weak winter sun. Such wan, muted light. A hawk sits on a branch watching me. Takes flight, lifting its wings. Soaring high. It's silhouette in the sun. So beautiful as it spreads it's wings for me to see its beauty. And then it's gone.
Like so many things in life, gone in an instant. A blink of an eye, the turn of a corner, round the next bend in the road. I look back, searching for it. Hoping to see it, that beauty. But all I see are the bare trees. The twisted branches. Lonely, aching for comfort, reaching to the sky for love, a touch. And it's just a lonely road.
Across a field a broken house... Crushed, as life has left it alone. Fallen in on itself. Silently rotting away, aching for someone to come back to it. To give it love. To fix it. To rebuild. But no one will, so it falls in on itself.
There was once beauty here, once a future, but it's gone now. It's just a lonely road.
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