walking

I was walking down a road. Not sure where it was or why I was there, but I was walking sure enough. Both sides are bordered by a nice split-rail fence. You could tell that during a good rain the water would pool in the slight gullies between the fence and the road. It is a hot summer day though with just enough wind to keep it from being too uncomfortable. Once in a while a lazy dust-devil pops up nearby for just long enough to let me know it was there before laying back down on the dusty road for an afternoon nap. Overhead it is mostly blue with a few cotton clouds floating by.

Shading my eyes I can see that up ahead the road winds through a shaded lane and I can hear cicadas buzzing in the branches of the trees. The smell of fresh-cut hay, still drying in the fields next to the road, fills my nose with the most wonderful of scent and tops off the feeling of summer.

I stop to take it all in. All I can hear are the sounds of wind and insects. Not a soul in sight. Walking to the side of the road I snatch up a small stalk of sorghum to chew on, set one foot on the lowest fence railing and lean comfortably. It is a perfect day and one that I'll remember when I'm old.