The forest is empty.
The trees give sound to the gentle breeze that no-one would hear. The leaves flutter in the almost hypnotic way that stirs the emotion in even the coldest hearts.
The soft clouds seem to walk ever onward; traveling in their peaceful way, on to destinations that no one will follow.
The lake is a single plane of glass.
You can hear the sound of the wild birds, cheerfully calling to each other in their serene tone.
You can the feel the wind, mussing your hair with its gentlest of fingers.
You can smell the pine and cedar needles that have cushioned your walk.
You can clearly make out the face of the person you are holding under the water.
--McNostril circa. 2005