Den of the Strewnberry Wolves
You spot the entrance to a clearing under the knots of thick tree branches. They're covered in spiraling carvings and indented with pockets of herbs, food, and other items
Sunrays beam through the cracks of the wood, shimmering on the padded soil
The den is warm and welcoming, it's inhabitants greet you with a slow blink and a parcel of brightly colored, juicy berries
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
Dedicated to my pup Frankie Rose and my passed girlie Shiloh, rest easy honey
