sum of substance

The winds blew a steady constant, over the mixed patches of lush dried crusty sprig of retired grass. The remains of spirited revived green majani. The dirt was soft. Softer than a handful of the finest sand. The dirt laid untouched, unscolded tan, with a little dash of barn red. The region laid flat, land that spread a thousand miles ahead, only to bear a few hookups in its path. Hills that bore the clothes of the same manufacturer, that of the flat below. Shrubs and plant life live about sporadicly, like a swallow that carries seeds and drops them at will. Perhaps leaving a spilled cluster behind here and there. Every night and every sunrise, is greeted by a brand new painting. How the clouds change miraculously and dance with the wind, wearing the most magnificent colors and singing without any forethought. The collection of clouds gather and leave a tear, to catch only a thumbnail of color to what lies behind the sum of substance. The mass of some clouds powered over the tremendous power of some others. Leaving a trail of immanent beauty and respect. This is the beauty of my land, my home.