Riding Down the Bridle's Path

The forest's hill is high, not rocky,infertile or steep; colorful and fragrant flowers adorn its grassy slopes without gleam, breathing among the fallen trees as the ravens scrutinize and sigh... My warm forehead is sticky, and ready to drip sweat; it's almost the end of July as I observe a brisk,yellow canary seeping the pond's misty and stagnant water laying beneath the huge branches of a white oak... Some raindrops hit my uncovered head, I look up the the hazy sky for sure signs of unpleasant weather to end the unaccomplished task of exploring nature in all its wonders and strange mischievousness; but despite the sensed danger, I continue this very short jeourney... Oftentimes I have ridden down this bridle's path,where alone, I have wittnessed changes in scenery: gliding green tree-tops invaded by sunlight, so brilliantly enticed by mistery, and visible from the blazing sky... My curious glance extends to the very end of the stupendous and dense forest to capture the shining rays of light, at noon, penetrating deep through patches of blue; and unlikely the trails of falling stars that hold our breath in inspiring awe and fade, they awaken a sense of wonderment and admiration for such an enlightenment...