Writing descriptions

Autumn

The peaceful air filled my mind as crisp winds brushed past my feathery wings and all my overwhelming problems washed away in the chilling breeze. I looked down upon the hustle of red, brown and yellow. The Forest of Hope beckoning me to submerge into the depths of its beautiful leaves and dancing branches. I dove, giving in to the urges inside me. I spread my wings and wrapped my body, cushioning my descending fall. Undeniably, I failed as I crashed into the maze of brown branches; my creamy wings ruffled and scratched against the tall trees, collecting leaves of gold, orange and yellow. 

Scents of delightful decay and flowers greeted me with affection. Many moons before I would have never given them a second thought; these gorgeous additions of life and a symbol of prosperity. For as I tucked in my wings, I could finally understand the meaning of peaceful joy and joyous peace. Taking in the beauty, I wandered through the thickets of deep, dense wood. Birds chirped their love and creatures of old and new replied in agreement. My unworthy fingers caressed the rough bark while my thoughts shifted from memory to problem and back again. The autumn floor saved me from them every time I slipped, crunching nature's gift under my feet.

Mushrooms and plants blinded me with bright, unrelenting colour. Animals of all shapes and sizes bounded happily through the autumn leaves: the daring deer, the rushing rabbits, the sly foxes. Yet, I could not join them forever, in their world of survival, nor their world of simplicity; and they could not join me, in my world of complications. For now, I could be alone and gaze across the towering forest, in momentary tranquillity.