Tales from a backseat passenger

The fog floats freely around the hillside air,
the landscape screams quietly,
hush now you mustn’t scare.
A treetop bristles softly,
leaving branches sway,
the rocks glistening excitedly,
while water runs away.
Now the air clings tightly,
to these objects in its trap,
releasing them so gently,
while silently holding them back.