The Vibrant Hill

The lush grass tickles your face

As you roll down the hill

The ants somehow scuttling in your pants

It almost doesn’t feel real

Children joyfully playing at the top

The dew drenches their clothes

Birds chirping to communicate

The trees so tall, yet still they grow

The cherry blossoms sway in the wind

The shrubs contain spiky thorns

They rustle calmly as the children become tired

As new trees are being born

Although it’s really late,

The children come out for one last play

The possums now, again, go hide away

Scared of the children's touch

After the children stroll away,

The rustling becomes louder

Dew starts to evaporate 

The mist rises to form new clouds