Minuet of Forest

Air slips over your skin as you move through it.  Sunlight shines down in the clearing, sparkling in the morning dew.  Your bare feet move with increasing ease through the long grass as they pick up moisture, changing the tickle of little leaves into a fluid touch.  After almost slipping, you find a rough, solid patch of dirt.  Damp though they are, your soles feel every crack in the dry earth.

Looking around, you see the forest, old as time itself but not unfriendly.  Shafts of light strike through the canopy, illuminating every mote of dust on the way.  The particles seem to float on their unhurried way to the ground, suspended in time.  Plants of every description, though mostly green, cover every inch of the floor.  They're woven together, it seems, a quilt of life with dew-laden spiderwebs for thread.