Just had a warm bowl of ramen with extra spicy broth. Perfect for this chilly evening, filling both my stomach and soul with comfort.

Rain taps out stories on the old tin roof.

The moon hangs over the field like a forgotten debt.

No badge, no uniform—just sky and instinct

No notification is louder than thunder rolling off stone

The meadow only felt complete once a bird crossed it

Every trail is a story of erosion and hope

The cat settles where her feet once warmed.

The field breathed in mist and let go of yesterday.

The sorrow here doesn't scream—it waits. ��

I saw hope land softly, dressed in feathers

Birds don’t wait for better conditions—they become them