Motay Bujokas

I watch the snow softly flutter onto the bleach white hills
covered in thousands of different snowflakes.
Do I go outside and catch them with my tongue
or stay in front of the bright red and orange fire?
...

I hear the rain patting on the ground like a drum.
I hear the wind whistling in the trees like a flute.
It sounds beautiful even though everyone says it’s awful.
It’s like people, they say there terrible
...

Surrounded by trees, on a path
one covered in leaves crunching beneath my shoes.
The view calms me
all my troubles disappear.
...

Through the different shaded art experiments in progress
my favourite is the one I haven’t yet begun.
It is perfect, light then dark.
You cannot see it but it is beautiful.
...