By Makenna Adams
The pine trees towered, an inky shade
Filled with poise and grace
The ridgeline was crisp, yet began to fade
As the sunset crossed my face
Soft ribbons of orange and pink
Began to trace the sky
The mountain wind made me blink
And droplets formed in my eye
The sweet scent of honeysuckle on the breeze
Cleansed my lungs and mind
I stood in puddles on the ground
From the midnight rain
The coming storm unleashed its sound
And allowed the worth to drain
The air was cold and crisp
And smelled of emerald spring
My skin it gently cooled and kissed
As crickets commenced to sing