Death Is Dying

Pattered in stone
And grass
The hill resides away
Away from everything else

On a lonely hill
Far away
There rests but one dying tree
Secluded from others

Leafless and bare
It sits
Squatted on its own
A solitary symbol

Resting beneath those barren branches
He sits.
Long scythe and deep cowl
Those dark, solemn, sad eyes.

Gentle snow fall
He knows
Icy, breathless
Patient, calm, sad.

Death,
Death is dying.