Painting on the wall

While the wind breezes
The swallow gallops away to the horizon
The squirrel keeps a moniker
Among the dancing fir
Listen, my purple pony!
The ants are rolling and rocking
So be careful now…
Less your gentle sway disrupt them

Far on the edge of the cliff
An aged bear roars on and on
So timid and powerless
Isn’t it scary?
And look, over there!
A wench that almost reach her limit
But still she blabber
Too bad nothing silly came out of her

Such is the landscape
in which I life in
invariably changing every now and then
all the while hanging quietly
on a corner of this circle of life