 Loose boards cracked and banged.
Swallows twittered as they flew in and out. The horses nuzzled me searchingly. The interior of the barn was ghostly dark. Outside was a grayish dawn. I was there for my predawn chores; I, a skinny youth of ten. All was right with the world except I heard spirits in the dark. Were they vagrants lurking? My heart would stop and I would freeze. Maybe they didn’t hear me. I listened intently. Now they were deathly quiet. I sighted the nearest pitchfork just in case. Suddenly I saw the light that maybe the city folk can’t see. We all find ourselves in dark, scary places; we walk in the light of day to find our way. (c) 2017 Larry Kilham
0 Comments
 As a child on a farm I knew the totality of creation (and in that wonder life had no end). The seasons and the extremes represented all that we knew and all that might be known... Gazing at life in a pond, the dew on a summer meadow, the tundra on a winter beach... We knew life is forever if we are happy to the end. (c) 2017 Larry Kilham |
RSS Feed