That lonely noon,
With an angry Sun,
Trees were waving,
For gentle companions.

The tired traveler,
Sat under the shade,
Backing his sorrows,
Thinking of the road.

Animals saw him there,
They were scared of him,
Humans are tricksters,
Maybe he’s a hunter.

Other travelers met him,
And offered no pleasantries,
His happiness grew so thin,
As he began to count his days.

His burdens were...