“This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence“
As I walk along I see the broken twigs across this leaf covered path. This path used to guide a dirt bike, whether through dry dirt or soft mud, winding up into the trees, circling back down, and ending at the edge of the yard.
Now the path is covered. It has not been disturbed in months. It will never be ridden through again, no dirt bike to crush the sticks and leaves underneath. This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence, that leaves a path to settle forever.

I can only imagine what happened to the dirt bike… somewhere I almost imagine a white cross where it crosses a road.
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The dirt bike was sold…
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I’m left with the burning question …. WHAT HAPPENED?
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my son passed away
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