Short Stories

Fields

I suppose you could say I was like a needle in a haystack.

Rolling, golden fields stretched in every direction around me. Feathered grass reached up in an attempt to touch the sky and revel in the fading sunlight. It moved in a subtle way, but when it moved as a unit, it seemed to dance and sway as if nature were playing a song for all to admire. Leaves from lofty trees pirouetted down from their regal position. Areas of grass caught in particularly breezy sections waltzed and swirled in sync. It seemed the bird were also a part of this occasion as they sang along to build up a euphoric chorus line. A subtle breeze fanned the grass and filled my lungs with its intoxifying freshness.