Trinity is an 11th grader from Georgia who loves to creatively express herself with art, photography, poems, and story writing. She hopes to write her own book one day and start an art business in the near future.
The bold red of the cherry burst in my mouth, releasing its juice, spilling through my yellow teeth.
I reach into my bag for more while spitting out the maroon seed.
The cool breeze brushes up against my shoulder and lightly taps me ever so often.
The leaves rustle in agreement and the old birch tree, upon the hill, sways in reply.
The sun rays warm me partially; it's partly cloudy.
“The cool breeze brushes up against my shoulder . . ."
A man in a red jumpsuit comes jogging by humming a rhythm of the song he is listening to.
The leaves continue to tussle along as the man barely glimpses at me when he jogs by.
I pop in another cherry, the sweet and cold sensation satisfying me once more.
I stand up, hand in bag, looking for more cherries, while walking home along the dirt path.
The trees say goodbye.