The trees envelope you as you run into them. Their branches caress you as you weave through them.
The pursuers are left behind. You stop as suddenly as you started, and look up.
The trees sway with the hefty breeze blowing through.
The needles are all around you.
A bird, taking flight, chirps madly as you interrupt its silence. As it chirps, dozens of new birds join in, all chirping.
All different sizes and colors.
Red, blue, black, brown, pale white. They all cross your path.
The pine needles under your feet soften your footsteps as you turn in a circle, still looking up.
The air is light, the breeze stirring it into existence.
The sunlight waivers through the branches, crisscrossing across my face.
The breeze brings smells of rain and storms along with it.
You are attracted to one of the trees in front of you. It seems to be the tallest for a long while longer.
And now you are pushing through its lower branches, trying to get to the trunk. As you arrive you start to climb.
Up.
Breaking off little dead branches and platforming your foot on the others. The branches get caught in your clothes, your hair. You are scratched on your exposed skin.
And then your there.
At the top.
And the air. It is the freshest up here. The breeze is strengthening steadily.
But you can see.
The mountains. The other trees. The birds.
Everything.
The sight. It is beautiful. Human sight is magnificent and perfect. Everything it takes in is also.
Perfect.
YOU ARE READING
A Whistle
מתח / מותחןWhy? Why are you on this foggy street? Who are you? Find out. This is a collection of interesting observations. From "A Thought on Stars" to the most common story, these are all observations of my everyday life (sometimes changed obviously). The fir...
