As I ride through the grass on my horse, the wet leaves in the trees sparkle in the sunlight.
The damp ground flicks tiny speaks of mud onto my legs and dries fast as we sail through the wind. As we canter along the hills even further, it’s as if I can hear a piano, swiftly playing a song. Each note I hear through the melody of the earth’s piano is like the sound of one hundred birds singing a song on a cold winter’s morning! Suddenly we come to a quick stop and swift piano like sound comes to an end.
By Chavawn
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