Elizabeth Lou
Stories (1/0)
Sunrise
Swaying in the cool morning breeze, a single tree stands. The tips of its tallest leaves kiss the dimmed blue sky, and the depths of its roots are enclosed by the thick black soil that fills the area. Sprouting from the darkest of that dense ground, a harvest of bright green wild-grass dances to the sound of the wind. The grass, which in itself is detained by a thick forest, is also the protector of its own inmate; the water. Held together on all sides by the grass, dirt, and trees, it may be imprisoned but that water is free. It is free to its depths and it is free to its heights. Free to listen, free to reflect. As the crimson edges of the horizon stain the rich blue of the sky, the free water mirrors it all. Showing both the light and the dark, the water reflects not only the beauty, but the shadows that also arise with the sun.
By Elizabeth Lou6 years ago in Poets