The world is quiet, up here by the sky. The wind lingers, filling my nostrils with the smell of the mountain. The clouds wrap around me caging me in a thick white box. The cold misty air brushes over my bare skin sending shivers through me. The trees wave me to come closer and shade me from the whipping air. But I don’t go. The sudden gusts lift me off my feet and sway me back and forth like a feather in the breeze. The grass dances, brushing against its self, humming, singing. The stream slithers through the soft rocks crumpling as it brushes the earth. The rain starts to play as it runs through the field.  Then the dark falls on the mountain, and the moon blazes in the night, lighting up the stars. And the world is quiet, up here by the sky.