The crisp autumn leaves blow softly across my face.
Lightly A stream of lightly trickling water jumps down the rocks, in threads of clear aqua.
The tangerine marigolds sway to the rhythm of the wind.
I watch as the rivulets of water reach my feet, pooling and bustling through the dense trees.
As the silverfish leap out of the glistening stream, kingfishers take their chance for a bite to eat.
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring. They change quickly and silently.
But everything changes. Is it too late to save the earth? Is it?