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?