z/word/poor punctuation
the end of days

treading uphill
the thinning forest
focusing streaming sunlight
over your shoulders
throws into high relief
the leaf-strewn slope ahead

as sharp afternoon air
whispers across your cheek
with a faint vinegar smell
of old dry earth
it feels like
the end of days

looking back
despite the low rays glare
through baring yellow trees
you can just glimpse beyond
the still-green valley
of days gone by

forward again
eyes clear now
on golden leaves
you walk into night
z/word/poor punctuation