Out Riding

Dogwoods protected for years almost grace the tree tops. White flowers in a world of green and brown. Butterflies that seem to be made from dogwood petals flutter past as we pass. Nevermind you, they're on a lazy mission for nectar. I sit back in mid jump barely keeping from knocking my horse off his course as one flies infront of my face. We come to a walk and I gaze at the grass as if I were a starving horse. Its that goregous, nutritious green of spring grass that only pops up in the best of land. This is haven. But its a shrunken haven because just ten feet away is an end to the woods. There area is developing and closing off. This slice of happiness is an island surrounded by sea water. Pretty on the top but choking and bad for life, other then itself.