Lake Frances

The tree beside me was of great height, and the aroma it left lingering in the air was of sweet pine. Its thick umber trunk, perfectly cracked throughout, was reaching as high into the cloudless sky above it, as its roots dug into the earth below. The stiff shadows the pine needles were leaving on the rust colored dirt seemed idle next to the playful fluttering of the emerald oak leaves, belonging to the tree neighboring the great pine. I glanced upward for a moment and my eyes took in thousands of enchanting trees such as these, surrounding the shimmering surface of the lake.
The titian colored sun, although almost ready to retire from a long day, sought me out amongst the trees. I reached up and wiped my forehead, wet with perspiration. A salty drop escaped, rolling down my nose; dropping off the tip, onto my top lip. I remedied the tickling wetness with a swift move from my parched eager tongue.
At the familiar obnoxious sound of geese honking, I raised my head to the manmade mass of water again, and couldn't help mut admire the luster, alluring in its silvery state, as the sun created tiny shadows against each ripple on the water. The geese now, were swimming in several fan shaped patterns. Their caramel colored bellies with grey and tan top feathers, glistened with the help of the tiny water droplets clinging to their bodies. I envied the geese current aquatic privileges and wished even more that the two old fishermen, sipping cold beer and clearing their old raspy throats next to me, would find another place to catch and release. But when my winged friends became aware of the company they had waiting on the shore, they turned their quick bodies the oposite direction and paddled away.
The wind, bringing a delightful coolness with it, traveled through the trees towards me. It then reached me, taking time to caress my warm skin with a feather-like touch. I took this time to breathe in the new air that the wind brought with it, and the overwhelming smell of someone's bar-b-que filled my senses. I could feel my stomach growing tighter at the thought of food. My moments of quiet observation at Lake Frances were over.