Bright Days: Why I Write Part Two

Outside, the pale white-gold sunlight shines through the pale green leaves, lending them a yellow glow. In contrast, the Eastern Redceaders make a contrast with their dark forest green needles, which seem to remain perpetually in shadow. A few other trees, mostly pecans and oaks, bears leaves of a deeper hue than the former, but brighter than the latter ceaders.
Verdant, lush grass, refreshing to walk upon and to gaze upon, covers the land. Flowers of vivid yellow and purple, always the heralds of spring where I live, spring up in sparse, scattered groups. Above is a clear, pale blue sky.
I love the place that I live at.
Once more, I am reminded of why I write. Around me, the color that symbolises hope is blazoned brightly,boldly. I wish to inspire, to remind people in these days that hope yet remains. I wish to defy empty, nihilistic literature by boldly proclaiming that though fallen, we have hope. We can find redemption. We can find joy. We can find God.