The vast sea shined at me as the wind blew and birds chirped, the leaves blowing past me while the sand gets in my shoes.

In western Nevada there is a beautiful desert. Many thing of the desert as a dull brown hellscpae. If you take a moment to look closer you’ll see the desert is a mosaic of hues. Stunning hills cut through the dry, sandy landscape. Different colored rock beds stacked like a dirt-colored cake. Even the fauna are dressed in bright colors. Geckos with scales like the hills of Ireland; birds with feathers resembling the wares of a candy store. On a clear day, the sky might even make a scuba diver homesick. Stunning sunsets glow and flow like an erupting volcano. When the sun sets at the end of a desert day, the darkness can almost make one forget how much color uses to be visible around them.

The ether emits a blazing, passionate atmosphere as the warm beams of light disappear behind the skyline, leaving traces of its presence on my once fair skin into a beautiful sun-kissed complexion. The once clear hues of the ocean dim in color. The sand hugs my feet as its warmth escapes it as the last rays set. My body began to shiver as the calm waves reached me; as I distanced myself from the now cold water, I followed a small light emanating from the flames surrounded by stones, Finally feeling that toasty feeling the daylight provided.

Fire made physical, laid out like a pie-crust and flattened with a wooden rolling pin: that is the color of the sky, stretched wide. Beneath, little floral wreaths dance and twist like children at Christmas, beneath the pointed trees. Looking onwards, one might think the ocean came to land, withering in its waves and shining in tapestries made by Nature’s hand. An oak tree, its trunk resembling a pastry that has been left in the oven for just a tad too long, gnarled and withered, grows here, too. For years it has showered the floor with its leaves. Those leaves now flutter up like levitating fairies and fall sharply only to be swept away again. You observe, and wish you could be swept away somewhere, too.

Snow blankets the seemingly endless expanse of snow-covered terrain around the cabin, which was crafted from the towering trees in the midst of a silent forest. The silhouette of mountains in the distance reminds us how small we really are in this extensive world. The lake nearby is frozen by winter’s touch. The morning air is crisp and it prickles on your cheeks. The smell of pine and the remaining embers of the fire inside linger around. If you listen closely enough, the sound of snapping twigs and crunching snow reminds us we aren’t alone.

I look out my window and see a bunch of clouds that look like mounds of whipped cream. I also see the backdrop of the sky which is so clear that it can blind you. I can also hear and see a flock of geese in the sky. I can also feel a soft cool breeze on my skin.

the absence was painted above dotted with the sparks of love fresh spring grass that laid below the ending not existing and untold

drastic moods lit up the sky quickly before they said goodbye they described each flash of emotion and fleeted without a commotion

the hills adorned throughout with sweet simplistic buds thrown about matched with the colors displayed above a mirroring sensation with a sence of love

the presence of forever is here close enough to hear between the breaths of the breeze listen carefully to hear it plead

“stay” it says between gasps “reep the reward you deserve” it rasps “for only you are gaurenteed the sweet love of eternity

for this is the pleasure of eachothers company forever and ever, as long as you need will you except this love? make your wish to the stars above”

It was the magic of spring at work. One day everything is dark clouds made of rolling thunder and the next you find a saturated landscape before your eyes, bathed in a gleaming sun that soaks everything it touches in a radient light. The sky, clear and cloudless, painted with forget-me-not’s. The grass stretched out and over my grandmother’s acreage with a new enthusiasm, seemed to have been brought on by the glorious weather. Even in the patches snow still covered, it burst up with determination, unwilling to let the traces of winter stop its pursuit of summer. Even the garden, though it was empty of any flowers, for my grandmother didn’t plant any till at least end of May, had bunches of life curling around it. Dandelions forced their way up through the cracks in the stones where the mulch hadn’t been laid, and a and a vine with leaves that looked as though they’d been dipped in blood twisted around the painted arch at the garden entrance. A smile crept onto my face. It was the magic of spring at work.

The sun was radiant and bright, shining down on a sea of endless trees, like a stage light shining down on the stars of the show. Emphasising the brilliant collection of unique colors that nature brings. The birds sing their songs of nature, and the other animals seem to join in on this song. Everything played a part. It’s like personally witnessing the harmony of the natural world. There’s a delicate breeze ruffling through each individual leaf that adds to this tune like a pan flute. The river is glistening and clear like glass, you can see each fish swimming as if they were dancing. At this moment, I feel like a spectator of this grand show, where nothing else seems to matter.

I Am Lying On Grassland Under Sunny Sky. Some birds sing on the trees n told me that spring is coming.