The soft drips and splashes of water reverberated in the grove. White rocks stood out of the dark waters, craving for attention. They shone and glinted proudly in the sun. Trees waved their branches, leaves rustling.

Applauding quitely.

An aesthetic blend of red, pink and green waved about the branches. The taller, and older, trees stood high and mighty. Silently laughing at the antics of the young ones. The morning dew on their leaves spoke of their joy and amusement.

A sweet scent of fresh water, and earth wafted through the grove, softly caressing the wings of the birds.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Fun fact! There is a word for the smell that comes after raining. It's called petrichor. I always used to call it 'moist mud', but this sounds more high class.

~Anony