A Suicide

Never ending grasses spread out in each direction, An amiable old barn, sitting amongst it. Overhead, geese fly south for the coming wintry months, And into a handsome setting sun. A picturesque landscape is laid out before my eyes. The smell of sweet hickory surrounding my chilly nose, Old twigs and grasses crunching beneath my feet. Watching my breath form clouds of fog, Savoring the gentle solitude. I embrace the touch of a country Christmas in the air, While my heart, cozy beneath heavy clothes, Is warmed by the hushed calm that can only be brought By evening walks similar to such.