(Editor's note: I've noticed that my writing in the past few years has become more about the mundane and less about the creative. Picking up tips from some of the "creatives" out there (who most likely know who they are, or could at least guess), I've decided to try to get back to my more creative roots. Here goes the first of hopefully may practice posts.)
The view from my window is extraordinary.
Farmers' fields roll in the wind, a patchwork of golden-brown squares with the look of toasted bread. The squares are caught at the seam by the sticky black pavement roads and power lines. Occasionally, lakes and ponds interrupt the patchwork, shining like a dime, a nickel, a quarter left too long in the sun. Rivers wind like varicose veins - blue, swollen, throbbing - across the tight-stretched skin of the earth.
Birds chase the shadow of the plane as the brown earth gives way to rolling hills and valleys of green. Trees rise up, making the earth look like a nubby green sweater over the form of a shapely woman.
All I can think is, "This must be what God sees."
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Like a green sweater over a shapely woman....now there is an image that I love:)
ReplyDeleteI think you are right, because he certainly doesn't see horror that goes on in this world.
ReplyDeleteNicely written, i could easily visualize the scene.