Nell'ora fumosa del crepuscolo, un velo di mistero scende lento, sul prato un manto di petali si stende, Margherite e papaveri in silenzio attendono l’arrivo del vespro.

Profumi dolci danzano nell'aria, consistenze vellutate sfiorano la pelle, nebbie sottili avvolgono i fiori, come spiriti che emergono dai vapori.

Le ombre si allungano, carezzano l'erba, i colori sbiadiscono in toni pastello, un coro di profumi si leva dal prato, raccontando memorie in un linguaggio dimenticato.

Nell'ultimo bagliore del giorno morente, i fiori selvatici brillano d'incanto, un regno effimero, magico e silente, dove il tempo si ferma, sospeso nel canto.

She runs through a bright green meadow. The sun is shining Brightly on her face. The air smells of roses , gardenia & lilac blossoms. She sees wildflowers All around her, in every color Of the rainbow .🌈 The birds are chirping and singing. She sees Monarch and Swallowtail butterflies everywhere, they seem to be chasing Her! She also sees rabbits, chipmunks, and squirrels 🐿️ jumping & running around. It’s like she’s in a dream. It’s so wonderful. Suddenly, it all kind of slows down and it all Become’s a blur. She realizes she should have enjoyed Everything a lot more In the moment. She Vows to come here More often and Really appreciate all of Gods nature, trees, Animals, and everything We take for granted Daily.

You’re barefoot, stepping your way through a Forrest.

Trees as green as the start of spring, provide you the oxygen you need.

Your feet takes in Mother Nature and the earth, the soil and the tree roots.

As you step out of this magical world of a Forrest, your feet sink into the dirt.

Your eyes take in the surroundings, your no longer in Forrest. No, you see, you are in a field of wildflowers.

Yellow like the golden sun.

Purples.

Blues and greens are before you.

You step in the wildflowers and stop to smell them.

You take a flower of each colour.

You put some in your hair and pin it as a badge on chest.

The fragrances coming through the fields is a sweet aroma, your nose starts to twitch.

The sun shines, but the clouds are also clearing.

A beautiful double rainbow is above you, with the sweet drizzle of the rain.

As you reach the middle of the fields, you sit down in between the wildflowers.

Your hands are on the ground, your feet are grounded.

Your eyes close and you start to dream, to wish, to pray that life could be like this everyday.

Being in a field of wildflowers, surrounded by natures finest.

Anonymous

Looking at a sky drawn city

When buildings become monuments

Resonate a fawning meeting

Advents that relent

A comatose dose of verbose feeling

A toast that hosts

The ataraxy of

A single lily at dawn

At any location

On a murky forest green swamp

On a nuclear lawn

Especially at star kissed crossword

Assortment of colors crossed

In touch with others

Intermingled shimmered singles

A field of flowers at dawn

On a distant hill, beneath a vast blue sky, there stood a single tree, ancient and wise. Children from the nearby village would often gather beneath its sprawling branches, finding joy in its shade, climbing its sturdy trunk, and listening to the wind whisper through its leaves. The tree had witnessed countless seasons and sheltered many generations.

However, over time, the village began to change. New industries sprang up, spewing smoke into the sky and dumping waste into the river that flowed near the hill. The once-clear waters turned murky, and the air grew heavy with the smell of poison. The children no longer played near the tree, and the villagers, consumed by their work, forgot the simple pleasures they once enjoyed.

One day, a young girl named Elara, who had heard tales of the tree's magic from her grandmother, decided to visit it. As she approached, she noticed the tree’s leaves had lost their vibrant green, tinged instead with brown and gray. The ground around it was littered with trash, and the air seemed thick and suffocating.

Elara sat beneath the tree, tears welling in her eyes. “What has happened to you?” she whispered. The wind, faint and weak, responded with a soft rustle of leaves. Elara knew then that the tree was dying, poisoned by the very waste the village had created.

Determined, Elara ran back to the village, urging the elders to stop polluting the river and the air. At first, they laughed, dismissing her as a foolish child. But as she persisted, they began to listen, recalling the joy they once felt under the tree’s shade.

Together, the villagers worked to clean the river and reduce the waste. They planted new trees and flowers, and the sky slowly began to clear. Over time, the tree regained some of its strength, though it never fully recovered. But it stood tall, a reminder of the joy that once was and a symbol of the village’s commitment to protect the earth and sky.

Elara, now older, would often sit beneath the tree, her heart filled with hope. Though the scars of the past remained, she knew that the village had learned an important lesson: that joy could only thrive where the sky was clear, the earth unpoisoned, and nothing was wasted.

Wildflowers Lovely sight Many hours True delight

Golden meadow Full of life Wandering fellow No more strife

Easy living Smell the air Future giving Life with no care

If one ugly pebble Taken from the beach Where it once was surrounded by others just a like it Just a little less smooth and a little less perfect If it was tossed into the sea To join the other fallen stones Would anyone really notice?

Would it even make a sound? I’m sure there’d be a plop as it hit the water Maybe a few rings would radiate from the impact But after the fact After that pebble has passed through the surface No difference would be made to that shore The same beach Minus one ugly pebble

Swaying yellow daffodils abound the rolling hills. They wave their delicate petals; the bright cheer in all the meadows.

Amid the pollinating bees, of course there are clumps of daisies. White to match the puffy clouds above, they’re here to share their love.

Pops of color here and there, purple lavender gives its share. Oh so lush, with their magical touch.

Dandelion petals blowing in the wind, they have a purposeful message to send. Listen to the wishes in the breeze, answer my prayers please.

Along the babbling brook, it may require a second look. Keep calm and happen upon, water lillies will guide you on.

Last but not least, a lone sunflower blooming in the east. Standing tall and strong, just know, you belong.

I am swimming in wildflowers through the meadow Maybe I could be a fierce blue jay Or perhaps I could be a creature more mellow Worry not, as only death will say The stoic bear or the observant deer Will my soul fuel tranquility or fear?

Bright box of promises new Lobelia red, pink joe pye weed Sunflowers preen in a handful of seed Let me dream in Aster blue

Garden of seed packets in lieu Of rose clouds of milkweed Without the patch of earth I need A potful of wildflowers makes due