Creative Writing,  My Writing

Not Quite an Essay 5

Hi, Hey, Hello!

Let’s find out where this ends together shall we.

The air is fresher here. Crisper, cleaner. Better somehow. Obviously it’s pretty much the same air but it just feels different.

The leaves crunch and the branches snap. Mud squelches underfoot. Sometimes a misstep means sinking into the ground a little more than you expected. Splashes up against the sides of your shoes. Flakes off later when you’re back indoors at a later time.

The sunlight pushes its way through the branches that haven’t been snapped off from their home just yet. The light refracts over the ground, highlights dark corners in the wood of the trees. It makes green leaves look almost black. The yellow ones look golden. They highlight the thin veins that twine their way across the landscape of the leaf. Sometimes they fall down against the current of the wind and are carried away to their new destination of the ground.

Rolling hills of green. Accompanied sometimes by large fields of yellow or white. Other colours bloom and shrivel over the course of the year. It’s a way to tell the seasons because sometimes the weather just indicate anything at all. It’s grey and rainy. It’s almost always grey and rainy. Or threatening rain. Rain is always there, but that’s not the point.

In fact sometimes the rain makes everything look clearer. Provides a better perspective. Adds to the air feeling cleaner.

Passing through the open space. Passing time and clearing your head. Occasionally hearing a bird make a noise, the flap of a wing, the bark of a dog, the trickle of a river, the shriek of joy from a child. Life just happening around you.

And a certain sense of stillness too. Before you inevitable have to re-enter the madness, the perfect kind of madness (but still madness), of the city.

Parentheses count: 1. See you tomorrow!

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