The hillside blooms, and I collide with the spring breeze in a full embrace

Wildflowers carpet the slope into brocade—pink poppies, purple irises, yellow dandelions—scattered like stars among the grass, a spilled palette splashing unrestrained vibrancy. Treading up the soft grassy incline, my white skirt brushes through blossoms, startling a flutter of butterflies whose wingtips stir fragrant air laced with earthy freshness. I settle on a sunlit rock, my skirt billowing into a gentle cloud, mirroring the swaying flowers around me. Reaching to touch a half-wild rose, fingertips dusted with golden pollen, I gaze at distant mountains layered in pale blue shadows. When the wind passes, the entire slope sways lightly, as if winking at me. Sunlight filters through leaves, gilding my hair and petals, even my breath turning weightless. Raising my camera, I realize I’m already embraced by flowers—the most beautiful frame was never posed, but standing wild in this spring light, letting wind tease my hem, watching floral shadows dance on my shoulders, becoming a blossom myself, growing free. These hillside flowers will fade, but this encounter with spring’s breeze and floral sea has already blossomed into an eternal memory.