Julia Banks, Grade 7
A breath of fresh air, the whisper of the wind, glitter caught in the breeze, floating down through the giant arms of the weathered oak, into the sunlit clearing. The sparkles it makes as it dances about, through the flowers, this way and that, round and round the tree, spiralling along with the wind, its delicate breath savouring the magic. The calmness that settles in the space, the fine powder that shines like a thousand diamonds settling noiselessly into the ground, among the wild daisies.
Then comes the vibration of a bigger being, skipping her way through the wild mushrooms and emerald grass, collapsing into the flowers, the crinkle of her eyes as she smiles up at the old oak, the tiny huff of her breath as she breathes in the scents of the familiar clearing, of long ago summers. The sun bathes her as she lays there, her eyes closed, listening to the noises of her past. She picks a bunch of daisies from beside and threads them into one another, making a fine garland of flowers and magic for her to place upon her head. She drinks in the warmth of the day, like a close embrace with nature.
The solid thuds as she swings her way up the oak, clinging onto its limbs as she climbs, her soft, bare feet sliding over the bark, a familiar route up the tree. Her soft, childlike laughter as she runs her fingers over the old letters carved into the thick trunk of the tree, reminders of what had been.
The peaceful entirety of the moment, the serene girl, her tanned legs gently swinging below the branch below in which she sits, gazing out at the magical setting, is something special. The sparkle of fallen glitter in the ground catches her eye as she leans back against the trunk of the oak, and she smiles again, memories of times when the fairies would come, their miniature, delicate wings held together with fine dust just like the glitter amongst the daisies.
She shuts her eyes again and sits there as the day comes to a close, under the presence of nature’s true magic.