Mosquitoes ate my
orange, confused beasties
I might say.
In all the forest, they are kings.
Animals of all description at
their mercy, and I dare
to tread upon their shore.
What’s left of me are orange
peelings, and I
awaken to the truth
it’s that way with man, a
camouflage of hope
allowing winds to despair
and rob intentions.
Hold on, live.
© Richard L. Provencher