Lucy in the sky

The sun was hot and the ground was dry. She walked barefoot through the long grass, feeling the ground tickle her feet.
The sun flickered through the dense foliage of the orchard. She walked up to her favourite tree, heavy with green Damsons and breathed in the damp, earthy scent of the bark. It smelt of secret pleasures and life, of green and brown, of sun and rain. Stepping away from the tree, a smile spread joyfully across her face. She shut her eyes, spinning slowly before plumping herself down heavily in the grass to bask. She opened her eyes and saw the world with a yellow hue from beneath the petals of a clump of buttercups. The sky must like butter, she thought to herself, dreamily.
She propped herself up onto her elbows and watched the flowers dancing in the light breeze, the petals barely moving, but the shadows fighting a gale. She watched, fascinated, as the shadows broke from the restrictions of their makers and slowly gained became more substantial, barely. In a moment too subtle to see, the shadows of the buttercups dancing in the wind became fairies wings. They rose up from nowhere, tiny beautiful creatures supported by wings as insubstantial as poppy petals. And suddenly they began flitting through the long grass and wildflowers in the orchard. She laughed and danced in the sunrays with the pollen and fairies.