Darkness is creeping

Fresh dew clung about the swaying strands of grass that called for the winds soft touch. Pebbles waded in pristine waters -their splashing was tickling the bank- as they danced in unison. Smiling branches overlooked the scenery searching for shimmer amongst the leaves. Plants were enveloped in the smallest golden ray of the sun, which wore a fighting stance as it marched through the forests’ canopy. A single petal touched the stream with upmost elegance. A bird was singing to its lover. A bunny was hopping to its home. All was serene, tranquil and majestic. 

The vibrancy of different shades of emerald glistened. The fluorescence of sapphire lingered in the gushing waterfall further up stream; It flowed with a laughing glow. A line of tall, narrow, trees stood tall against the stream like a guardian of its beauty. The smell of honeysuckle would drift up your nose if you had been there, fuelling your lungs with sweet tasting content. The bark would smell rich and purified. The wood would have that moist tinge of the early morning that the grass embraced. All was sickening to the senses- a triple chocolate gateau of nature. 

The joyous hum of butterflies swarmed in a sea of swirling colours; They were beating their wings delicately in sync and in boldness. Many ugly insects dared not to interfere with the little creatures show; They kept in the shadows of each chocolate-like log, that lay sleeping on its soil mattress. No darkness was advertised, even the penumbra of the shadows stayed in a silent abyss because the light was in charge. 

Trailing around the peeling, maroon, rough textured log, determined ants held green specs above their bodies bravely. They were in a hunt for their queen fit for this royal space. As the sun fully rose ,the brightness was at its peak and the grass’s dew had slowly vanquished. The bending flowers blended into the carpet of growing greenery like a temple for plenty of small offspring to play hide and seek. Fewer animals could be seen lapping up the cold, transparent water, which -in any lighting -looked as appetising as it has always been. 

But.. beyond all the glory that one could marvel at.. comes the night. The cold, hard, dead of night; it was slowly creeping up on the landscape. Crawling and tugging at every corner of sun rays, desperately in a quest to thwart the light. Time was drawing in like the tides of great rivers- which laugh at such small glowing streams. Laughing because they knew what was coming. Laughing because they were big enough to fight the inevitable pitch black blanket off. Laughing because the baby stream would be choked in darkness.