Sunny, cold days.

Time moving like the tide over a barren beach.

The logs are rising over the chasm that we try to put between each other in an attempt for some sort of connection.

The ocean undulates in order to hide the rising crashing on the underside of its surface.

Clouds move in patterns that are always the same in that they are never changing, marking the surface of the land with their shadows and shapes, greeting whilst also becoming as fleeting as they are present.

The shade moves to get away from the sun, yet is always surrounded by it whilst the sun wanders across the sky in order to enjoy the scenery below.

Birds are chirping, birds are chirping, birds are chirping and the birdsong that we can all here is appreciated by those who can understand the mating calls.

Rivers move and stretch beyond the perceived visibility in order to follow paths until they need to be recreated.

Gullies break under the approaching bush land and forests that are spread about as far as can be reached in a single sitting.

People move around far faster than they seem, for up close it seems like a regular pace, but their size shows how quickly they are moving when seen from afar.

The scent of salt is in the air as the beach remains bright.

Glistening sand is revealed every time waves creep up the shoreline and then pulls back to the great body of the ocean that it shall always return to.

Winds blow across dunes and work to gradually reshape the face of the area into new patterns, whilst plants hold sand where it needs to be held in order to restore the land when the tides attempt to claim it from its location.

Earth moves from soft to hard underfoot as a journey is commenced and completed within the span of a day.

The traversal brings upon the scene of flowers in fresh bloom, looking toward the sky and looking for something to help them grow more vibrant and voluminous.

Animals scurry about on the ground, in the trees and within the soils, for their livelihood requires this as well as the livelihood of the land.

The soil turns over slowly, but turn over it does in as unrelenting a fashion as possible.

The air carries scents appealing to both nature and people and draw us toward them for greater, more sufficient appreciation of their source.

Rains fall, water rises and rains fall again in a dance that has lasted far longer than we care to know.

Just as the sun rises from just beyond the earth, so too it falls and puts on a vivid display of colours as its final act before allowing the night to come and caress where the sun has been, at least for a little while and at least until it is required for the sun to rise once more over the beautiful land in which we live.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:46:69

I started well with this but I ended up thinking too much about what I was writing.
I think the ending could have been better.

Written at work.