The field is sparkling in the morning light.
The world is still, silent. Quiet. At peace.
Hot breath turns to mist as it hits the open air, the sunshine painting it white.
The grass crunches beneath too-thin slippers; rainbows refract from barren trees.
It’s early June, and the strawberries have been dusted with ice.
The field is sparkling in the morning light.
The world is still, silent. Quiet. At peace.
Hot breath turns to mist as it hits the open air, the sunshine painting it white.
The grass crunches beneath too-thin slippers; rainbows refract from barren trees.
It’s early June, and the strawberries have been dusted with ice.