Picture This
Green and gold light speckling the grass. Vibrantly green buffalo grass, a lawn. Birds call, ever so softly from every side. The grass is soft against your back, for a while. Your checked, long sleeve shirt and jeans stop the grass from itching its way to your skin. Trees block out the suns glare. The leaves above rattle and click in the slight wind. Secrets are whispered from air to tree that travel down into the earth.
Past the branches and leaves fluffy, white clouds float in the blue sky. The leaves shake with gladness. Soft music plays. All is beautiful.
Eventually you realize your head is lower than your feet because of the slight incline of the lawn. The grass has found a way through your shirt to itch your back. So you shift over and lean against a rock, it is rough and cool, but comfortable. Where you lie is actually a tamed ridge line. Rocks, like the one you lean against poke up like breaching wales from the green lawn. Rocks of a volcanic sort. The one you lean against sucks warmth from your back. The breeze is almost cold.
Insects are on the move around you. Ants trail up a tree, bees fly around and around a mosquito hums. Which in the end destroys it all because in this life nothing is quite perfect, not for long. But we have assurance, that one day, we will be brought home. To a perfect home, the perfect home, the perfect place, perfect for eternity.
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1 comments
So beautiful. I love love love the greenness of EVERYTHING this time of year, so beautiful.
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