I am sitting in butte meadows on a crisp spring day. The air is sharp like a walk-in refrigerator, but it’s not too cold. The grass is tall and the sky is a gradient which runs from a light powder blue into a deep and knowing cobalt. The clouds are rolling across the blueish gradient at an accelerated pace. The wind is blowing and i can feel it cooling my face as i close my eyes and smile. You come sit next to me, your forehead itchy and your eyes blue like the sky over our heads. I watch your face light up as you notice my grin. I lay back in the grass and so do you and no words are exchanged. The only sounds are those of the crickets, the windy meadow, and the rustling trees. The sky begins to grow brighter with reds and oranges. Faintly at first, and then more intense. The trees are melting into thick green liquid, the color of little army men. The green water fills up the meadow and we are floating on our backs with smiles on our faces, watching the sky burn brightly as it begins it’s final encore.