The Hill of Tears

Laying in the large grass field and trees whispering winded words without whisking away time. Small blades of hard velvet touching my skin on top of the sweetly scented ground with lilac type essence. Just laying the like a log while watching the sky start to fall. The earth is crying tears of glass while slowly reviving plants yet to fall. Dogs moaning to return to their masters who forced them outside. And yet I lay their still being the log I am enjoying the plops of the drops. Feeling the savory flavor of time yet to come, and as I lay I cannot help to think "Why does the earth cry?" Now inhaling the power of the flowers and yet they seem mad that the earth is crying, being punished and hit by the pain of the earth. And yet I lay there thinking now "Why do the flowers die?"