WordsArePicturesToo

Virgil sighed as he dragged himself into the house. It was late but the next day was Saturday so he could nurse his new injuries in the peace of his own home rather than trying to navigate school while hurting this bad. The door is gently removed from his hand, and he looks up to see his father standing there. Virgil didn't resist when Robert grabbed him and helped him into the house. Robert had seen the breaking news report and saw the battle Static had gotten into with the meta breed. He knew his son would be injured and in pain when he got home so, instead of going to bed he waited up for Virgil to arrive. If he couldn't keep his son out of the fights he could at least be there to tend to him after. He wasn't sure how much time passed between the report and Virgil dragging himself into the house exhausted and injured. It had felt like hours but when Robert looked at the clock later it would have actually only been about an hour and a half. "Pops…" Virgil said his voice tight

Living in California is not without a price, Nothing ever is. One must pay a price of wildfires and drought, Two cyclical forces natural to the ecology. Controlled burning that would stop fire-storms, Too many people live in a place And a controlled fire cannot cleanse it; people Would raise complaints that it’s not safe. Thickets and ditches, they’re thick with dead plants, Dead trees impeding saplings, But there are too many residents who won’t tolerate it; That would threaten houses and countryside. It’s either controlled burning close to houses Or disastrous fire-storms. There’s always a price, a difficult choice to negotiate, Timely negotiation is urgent to us now. Loisgeamh Stamhanta No Doineann-Teine Cha thig còmhnaidh air California gun fhiach, ˆ-ˆ--ˆ-ˆ--ˆ- Cha thig gnothach lurach sam bith. ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-ˆ- Feumaimh neach pàigheamh fiach leis an roidean ‘s tart, ˆ--ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-- Dith’s neart cuairteach dùth don àrainn. Loisgeamh stamhanta gum bacamh doineannan-teine, Tha cus

WINTER SONNET Fragrant blossom withers in frozen ground, Dry leaves dance gayly in the icy breeze, Abandoning their homes in naked trees. Then, snow comes drifting from skies with no sound. Excited eyes and cherub cheeks of rose, Greet the frosty days with romp and laughter. Days are magical forever after, When angel’s wings appear in fallen snows. Child like revelry possesses the world, As trails wind merrily down rolling hill. The constant sun smiles warm and bright until, It makes way for new moon to shine, like pearl. Special warmth wraps us with loving embrace. Winter, fill our eager hearts with your grace.