nature

Bryson Brew Coffee & Brown Cinnamon Sugar Poptarts

If I painted a picture of this scene, that painting would not be able to demonstrate all the words that are being spoken to me. There are hues of blue that only Mother Nature can orchestrate across the Great Smoky Mountains. The economic fluidity in nature around me whisper secrets of their morning deliveries. A squirrel tries to remember where it buried its last batch of acorns while birds practice their arial acrobatics. The mountain does not sleep in. Gusts of wind interject themselves disrupting my consistency of warmth; I’m prevented from the gradual fade into slumber by the Sun’s Lullaby. Not all at once, and almost imperceptibly, I was cloaked in the Mountain’s Life-force. All of my surroundings fit as one in constant motion; I was grateful, as a visitor, to be allowed to experience such a personal and magical foresight into something so natural and instinctual. 

*poot* 

“SAFETY!” is shouted behind me and just like the snap of a finger, or poot from a butt, the story is over.