In my point of view of the forest I see leaves slowly falling from mighty oak trees. I see miles and miles of elderly trees all gently whispering in the wind. I see deer of all shapes, sizes, and colors running about the forest. In my point of view I smell the fresh air, I smell the wild flowers that surrounds the forest. I smell the wild cranberries fresh and ready to eat. In my point of view I hear chipmunks crackling to them selves. I hear deer trotting from a distance. I hear the quietest of birds chirping at the top of their lungs. In my point of view I taste the cold, sweet pond water. I taste the acorns that fall from the trees. I taste the wet morning dew. In my point of view I feel the tough earth beneath my hooves I feel the soft grass in the meadow. I feel the wind push against my fur. In my point of view.

Sorry for some grammer issues I wrote this when I was 11.