The Branch Stood Empty
The once vibrant earth lay barren and lifeless in a world plagued by a relentless drought. Rivers that once flowed with crystal clear water were reduced to mere cracks in the earth. Trees stood, their withered branches reaching out to a merciless sky.
Amidst this landscape, the last hawk perched on a withered branch. With weary eyes, it surveyed the endless expanse of the desert, longing for a glimmer of life that had long vanished.
The hawk remained perched on its solitary branch, a lonely sentinel in a world forgotten by rain. The once vibrant feathers that adorned her now appeared faded and dull. With each passing day, the hawk’s heart grew heavier, burdened by solitude and longing.
And on a fateful evening, as the dying sun cast its rays upon the desolate earth, the last hawk closed its weary eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming sadness that was its existence. The branch stood empty.
~ Robert David Atkinson