Emeralds
Words alone could not describe the beauty of the the scenery I was looking upon when I wrote this poem. However, I tried, and this is what I came up with.

Gazing out,
You see a neverending field of emeralds.
The yellow ball of fire,
shooting its golden rays down upon them.
The dazzeling emeralds,
in a rainbow of greens,
drink in the light,
and with it thrive.

The fluffy, white clouds
creating their ripples in the soft, blue pool
that stretches from one point of the oval dome
to the other.
You wonder how far it runs.
Like a river,
must it somewhere end?