Leaves bat against each other,

The pushing against their scratchy green surface. 

The rough brown bark of an oak tree scrapes against your knees,

As you ascend quicker and higher into the sky.

Are you climbing or flying? 

You weave in and out of scraggly branches,

Pulling yourself up and flipping your legs to latch onto the rough wood. 

As you rise, a blue sky full of chirping birds and warped clouds pops into your view. 

You rest your back against the trunk and gaze down toward the earth. 

You want to stay here forever.

Wildflowers of many different colors shoot up from the soil. 

Tall weeds mix with an endless field of wheat, 

A sea of golden yellow and dark green. 

Everything just seems so perfect, 

Like the world around you is untouched. 

A picture of perfection.

The beauty of our world.