Finding Your Long-Lost Imagination
Ode to My EveningTrails
The sun creates long shadows of the hills, seemingly altering the hills themselves.
The way the green, lush grass smells after basking in the hot sun all day.
The cold, evening air settles into the little gullies and dips, as if bedding down for the night; I feel as if I am disturbing them as I jog through.
The cows' baying moos can be heard echoing off the hills into the valleys, and from the valleys to the hills.