The Beauty Of The Bush

Excellence Award in the 'Write As Rain 2014' competition

Gently I stroll through the bush taking in the sights.
The ancient trees rise higher than the eye can see. The pure white snow covers the ground lightly; it is nature’s own carpet. I hear the cry of the lone Currawong the beauty in it is as beautiful as life itself.
I stumble upon a creek; the flowing creek is colder than ice and goes on forever.
Dusk arrives and the kings of the bush are coming, the wild bush brumbies. I hear the furious thunder of their hooves but a fleeting glimpse is all I catch.
As I walk back into camp the fire flames are leaping into the air trying to steal the moon. I lay down and look up at the sky and see a million tiny galaxies of light; stars of the night shining bright upon all below. I doze off thinking no dream could ever be as beautiful as this.

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