The Hill

A hot splash of day-long sunlight shone down on The Hill. It was a pleasant, warm green Hill, nothing more. But not as green as the rain would want it, for water had not quenched this dry grass for days. The Hill was perfect around this time of year. At the summit a cluster of once naked trees all lightly swayed against the bluest sky. A soft breeze made it's way up and down the valley beneath The Hill, the only solace for barers of the heat. The plants that had not caught a glimpse of sunlight for whole seasons now erupted into the air. The fluffy white seeds carried by the breeze offered a distant dream of a snowy winter. But nothing made a sound. None of these events on The Hill made a single noise. All of the animals were busy searching for shade, far too exhausted to converse with one another. And so everything was quiet, just as The Hill intended it.