Human Nature

We sit in the damp grass that was pressed down with mud encrusted shoes. My legs stretch into the tall greenery, thin scratches across my shins from thorn bushes. He rests his head against my shoulder as he stretches horizontal to me, feet resting on the top of the four-wheeler tire. My hair tangles in the peeling bark of the apple tree, its droopy branches reaching into the picture of the rolling hills of Upstate. The trees are pillowy green, pastel skies, and cotton ball clouds. A cool breeze lifts my sticky hair off my temples and cools my sunburned cheeks, before dancing up to the leaves in a percussion of sound.