The View

by Travis

I am lying on my back in a field. The sun is beeting down hard on my surroundings, however it seems to bypass me with it’s rays of sunshine filled with energy heat and life. I have a forrest on my left. Hearing each and every sound which surrounds me . In the woods I hear the sound of a woodpecker slaving away, trying to make hole in the mighty white oak. I hear the birds chirping, the birds are soaring down into the field more than likely to obtain their last meal of the day. On my right the small brook is babeling as if it were trying to tell a story, it is trying to tell a story, the story of fall. All around me things are slowly dying, life is eroding away. As my edges start to freeze, my inhabitants start to migrate and my waters start to chill. I feel the crushing grips of winter grabbing me and pulling me into its prison. All around me is the sound of crickets, which is consuming me. The crickets are the last thing I hear that day, they are the last sign of life. The other inhabitants of the forrest are fleeing from the oncoming fear of winter. The land slowly starts to adapt as well. In the sun the grass is dry as if it were a normal summer day. In the shade the grass is cold, covered with dew, the grass is as if it is in hibernation mode. Preparing for winter the grass is cold, the grass is stiff, the grass is lifeless. The sun moves to its zenith, the grass regains life from the sun for a few hours of the day. The sun is the source of all life, the sun is going down, everything is dying. Everything is losing life as the sun is leaving, nature is going into a temporary state of hibernation, until tomorrow. When this field regains life for those few precious hours of the day when the sun is strong, when the sun is strongest.