Lying on the grassland breeze, dyeing myself in spring

When the butter-yellow skirt gently brushes against the fluffy meadow, even breaths carry the fresh sweetness of grass. I carefully nestle into this emerald embrace, letting the skirt bloom like petals, rippling in the wind, softening the entire grassland into a tender canvas. Sunlight filters through clouds, dancing on skin like scattered gold foil. The nose catches dewy grass fragrance, while distant cowbells chime softly in the ears. Even passing birds seem like celestial messengers. Fingertips trace blades of grass, feeling each fiber's softness - as if touching the earth's pulse. Turning sideways, clouds hang so low one could pluck a piece. Rolling hills paint gentle curves against azure skies, weaving an unfading oil painting. Here, I become the most vibrant brushstroke - needing no adornment, just a simple dress embracing nature becomes the most moving scenery. Mischievous winds tuck wildflowers into tousled hair. Closing eyes, thoughts drift with the breeze - time stretches endlessly here, worries crumbling into the sea of grass. Happiness reveals its purest form: lying on the prairie watching clouds waltz, wrapped in sunlight and zephyrs. Rising, my skirt gathers grass blades and floral scents - the grassland's parting gift. Those meadow moments have become soul's most healing poetry, bringing involuntary smiles whenever remembered.