The air rushes through a mine field of green, brown and white. The leaves rustle, whispering their name softly as the morning breeze pushes past them.

The wind carries the voice of the underbrush and lets the trees moan out their frustrations. The branches sway, laughing at the joy of the ride as the bushes jostle about, hugging and caressing their new buds.

The birds sing with the breeze and the tiny insects stop to listen. The clouds puff out and silently thank the win for a chance to stretch their legs and run.

Dust particles say their goodbyes and drift off into the open air, waving until their previous home vanishes from sight. The animals stir and the quiet forest wakens from a deep sleep.

Among all the birds, trees, bushes, rocks and dirt a small patch of grass like plants nestle happily in their beds. They straighten out their spines to get a whiff of the evening air and their long, majestic pillars stand proud.

The orange is glowing from the inside and even though they only stretch a few inches off the ground, their demeanor is as high as a castle.

They relax their roots and lean into their neighbors, taking comfort in each other's presence. The feather soft, snow-cap tips touch, banding together.

They huddle in a bunch, shouting out their thanks to the bush above. The sun's golden rays bore down on them and fill their bodies with delight.

The wind passes through the towers and chases after the sun, racing to be there when it finally sinks. The woods grow silent and listen for their voices running away with the breeze.