The birds sing loudly as I walk down the old beaten path, leaves and twigs, being crushed and snapped under the sole of my boot. The squirrels scurrying around the ground looking for nuts to survive the winter. The sound of the cicadas who have emerged from the ground and are seeing above the soil for the first time in seventeen years. The trees are overlooking the whole forest, towering over everything, only the birds can reach heights taller than them, the guardians of the forests. The ant colonies scurrying to find food for their queen and young, marching in almost perfect lines across the trail, ignoring anything that might walk across them. As I walk down the trail, I stop at a stream, the water rushing down hill, if you lean closer to the water's edge you can see the water striders glide effortlessly atop the water. If you look below the striders you can see schools of tiny minnows seemingly lost as they dart randomly in the clear water.
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