General

In that meadow there was a waving of the stalks, moving as if they were the very substance of this green and bonny sea.

General

The bees come to our urban meadows, to the wildflowers we planted in our lawns. They buzz around the choir of blooms, nature's music in these sunshine filled moments. The children run through the pathways they make as they play, giggling for all the fun it is to run in such tall grass. This was all it took to save our bees, and ourselves, to plant what has always been here on this land.

General

The meadow meandered in all ways that are soft to the breeze, the green flowing in bonny waves as any river would be proud to do.

General

There is a casual grace to the meadow, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun.

General

That meadow was a happy song, a poetry to eye and soul, bright in all the hues our Earth can dream of.

General

The meadow bloomed as if each petal was a bright memory.