Intoxicated by the sun, the path seems cheery.
The arms of the trees sway to a melody whispered by a secretive breeze. Deep and earthy, the musk of decaying leaves, unbroken by the soil, clings to the warm air. Tangled green beckons deeper into a calming chaos.
Further lies a stream—clear and sweet, a patient sculptor of the land, working in near solitude. Straddling the banks, a boy skips rocks, alone.
Precarious, and sullen, his face is dappled with the glowing light above.
In time it seems to lift his worries.
A grin dawns.
For now, all is well.