The wind flies, darting in between the branches of the trees, twisting and contorting around every obstacle obscuring its path. It howls a bright, pale purple. Swirling through the air, harmonies of the disturbed whine in the dark night with a shrill, lavender trill. A gust blows, and bright cerulean scatters in the sky.
As the wind travels, the branches whimper, shaking and rustling and causing little blue sparks to fall quietly to the ground. As I walk I hear a twig beneath my foot crack; looking down, a moderate olive colour dissipates in concentric rings. I continue to step, and the gentle thud of my tred create more bursts of a translucent azure.
Creatures bump in the night, causing a dim green to radiate from various spots behind trunks, and stones, and masses of fallen debris. A scattering of nocturnal rodents scuttle across the forest ground, and in their wake leave small trails of fuchsia. An owl raises its voice before diving for its meal, and suddenly a brash crimson paints the scene.
More aviated creatures awake, the flapping of their wings causing a dark, deep indigo to travel through the sky, disturbing the path of the violet wind. They mix and whirl and the long strands of colour create a beautiful whirlpool in the air, dancing and spinning along with the movements of the wind and sky. It swirls and twirls and it doesn’t seem to want to stop.

The sun is peeking out from the horizon; now the backdrop has changed to a deep, orange gradient. The night creatures begin to recede, leaving one last bustling of bronze green as each returns to its own sequestered sanctuary. Daytime animals arise, and with their trot and gait run into sight, tailing themselves with a pleasant, paling pink.
Birds begin to sing, and with their song comes coils of radiant yellow and shimmering red. Each unique song creates a different shade: a powdery orange drifts with the song of the robin; a twinkling topaz floats from the throat of the thrush; bold scarlet from the mockingbird; a fleshy peach from the sparrow.
The sun continues to rise; more animals scamper out of hiding. With each trot of a hoof and thud of a paw circles of pale orange reverberate through the air. The sun now hangs high in the sky, its light glittering through the branches of the trees.
The wind slows, a calm gust now whispers a vivid magenta. The stirring leaves sprinkle auburn in the air with hushed tones, dancing delicately among the pastoral breeze to the song of the early birds.
Day has come, and Night has fallen asleep.