Seasons

Sweet bliss of nature and beauty.

Across the field she lays, whisked by the tall grass that surrounds her, slowly in her white dress that seems to be the wind itself, rays of Sun sweep down but don't touch her, gracefully moving around her, a dance of the earth, barefeet on the soft soil, warmed by the light, with a breeze of green that embraces her, standing she pulls her hair behind her ear, her hair lightly brushed with the air, and the breeze dies down, and the field sleeps, quietly as it danced, it sleeps.

Author's Note

Read and review, thanks.