Ordinarily I don't write in the evening or at least not to post here. I don't know exactly when I got into the habit of writing posts in the morning, it just kind of happened one day and it's stuck. But something happened tonight that I'd like to share before it's gone cold.
For the first time this year, a deer appeared in the hayfield. It was near dusk, the sunlight was filtering through the western trees near the creek bank and skimming across the field to caress the tips of the trees on the eastern forest. Long shadows stretched across the new hay interspersed with equally long shafts of light. In the midst of one, near the southern edge of the field, was a golden figure bent over the grass. From the kitchen window, it was nearly one with the sunlight and seemed a figment, a specter, something arisen from the ground.
But she was real and lazed her way from one clump to another, as though she hadn't a care in the world. I have no idea where she came from and she vanished nearly as quickly as she appeared. But I've looked for her, days on end, like a sailor searching for land, a navigator for a compass point, a lover for his beloved. And behold, with the sunset, she is here.
Have a good night.
No comments:
Post a Comment