Natchez through my Lens

I'm in a mystery book, its pages built of trees, the forest is tall, ethereal draw, with songs of honeybees. Sweet blue sky that paints the fields, hay which covers grassy pages, turn my cover, driving under - this land which couldn't phase us.

Pure and perfect, untouched, unreached, searching for the stories chapters. Surrounded and bound in the earth of truth which mother nature looks after. Growth that's growing, and leaves are knowing as wind kisses my cheeks, the road is winding, the words are finding themselves as we pass peaks.

The breeze is dear and in bounty covers this mysterious land. A book you need to read twice again to fully understand - I'm in a wonderland which pages flicker butterflies. The sun-kissed wheat would tickle my feet as birds sore in the skies. Magical and mystical, bright with with shadows cast. I'm medicated by meditation, I never want it to pass.