I see the tiny four-petaled flowers growing in the grass, collectively creating blankets of pale violet.
I see the little red berries on the bushes, blending red and green together like natural artwork.
I see the black berries hang down from tree limbs like grapes, safe until the day they choose to drop.
I see small trees covered in closed buds, ready to burst into color and bring forth floral beauty.
I see the newborn pinecones upon the taller trees, still growing to be the tree they dream to be.
I see Winter losing it's deathly grasp, and the very first signs of Spring's growing life.
I see myself, one who has planted the seeds upon the dead land, and now I see the first sprouts.