Senses (On High)

Birds chirping in the trees,

Trees moving in the breeze,

Cold grass under me.

The sun on my back,

Calming, relaxing.

Motorcycle in the distance,

Revving fierce and loud.

Lawn mower in a yard,

Cutting grass,

For that fresh-cut smell.

With my senses (on high),

I hear:

The birds chirping in the trees.

I see:

The trees moving in the breeze.

I feel:

The cold grass under me.