After hours upon hours of flat brown cornfields,
I wish to say it would be fascinating:
animals in their natural habitat.
The variety of them changes rapidly
in and around the seasons.
Crawling slowly, or so it seems.
Light shines through the slits of the forest —
I don’t enjoy the descending as much
I am more about the climb up
The feeling of escaping from the world below
The feeling of progress in the form of vertical height
In the crook of a tree,
A leaf.
The crystal blue lake is vacant
With nothing but clear waters from end to end.
Dusk set in for what seemed like the first time, but also the last;
Weather is always changing- In some places more than others
The wind was humming past my ears
that wasn’t why we were out
It was planned for a day