.Forest.

Seruptitious leaves drop like feathers as the wind contacts them, blowing them off the original course. Drip, drop, small bombs of liquid drop off the leaves as the rain comes in like an untold event. The wind whistles, almost as to sing me a song. The birds are composers of unwritten symphonies of which I desire to become accompanied with. Sound; what is it that makes this indescribable event affect us in such unique ways. Touch, as I lay my finger upon the soft blanket shell of the caterpillar. Smell; the cotton freshness of mountain trees, and nature as its finest. Evergreen armies marching and staking their claim upon the land. Vast; everywhere I look: green. Sight; colors, patterns, abstract, WAIT, watch. Motion. Taste; of life coming into me as I sip down my soup. Ah, the warmth. As if to say my soul is at peace.