Dry lilies shriveled, painted over a picture of full bloom, as twilight cast its purple shadow over the speckled summer prairie. The sun, ripe in its final hour, cast scarlet shadows in streaks that crisscrossed with straight rows of pine, meticulously planted in perfect formation, saluting the passing of their commander. Beside them sat a humble knoll, half encompassed by a huge twisting willow that drank from a stream nearby. Upon this hill stood a figure, a serene silhouette, who had fallen into formation with the pines to hark this golden globe so near the bar.
The sky shifted, causing a slight breeze to blow, which set long, amber hair adrift within it. The figure caught it, held it against the light tug of the wind. Turning, she put her face to the breeze and sat down among the rusted lilies
As light faded on Yonder Hill, Sarah laid her head on her knees, but as the first star blinked on, she looked upward again. More stars faded in as the night grew darker. Little elves flitted to and fro in the grass beside her, playing tricks on her senses. The night was thin, but as the intertwining rows of soldier pines darkened, it thickened, and Sarah went indoors to retire.