wind like mind

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The War, Part 20

Sam headed back to the tree he napped beneath. The rain stopped soon as if it had a hard time sustaining that much force for long. His shoes were soaked through now and with the downpour ending the scattered spray just above the surface of the street could see a blurry image reflected back of a person beneath him placing his feet where he placed his.

Sam stepped off the road and shook the hat dry. Placed it back on his head as it was the best place he could place it now that the sun was out again but low and bright orange ahead of him. Strong like it was earlier in the day he tipped the hat down in front. In the small slivers left on each side of the hat point between his cheek bones and the rim he could see well enough and not hurt his eyes.

It was not long before he reached the cornfield and then the tree. The ground was fairly dry near the trunk the soil there raised like a mound forced by the bundle of thick roots that looked to be straining to hold the tree in place with an incredibly tight grip cramped upon the earth bunched between its fingers. But the tree was too close to the road for the night and Sam looked around the place for a better spot to make camp. The stillness had already settled in along with the sun was now below the tops of the corn stalks sent its final turning burst to the orange clouds following, their backs an iridescent blue. The colored light coming through the stalks narrowed them midway and their tops held hovering by a thin strand keeps a hot air balloon in place as the passengers board they stretch as tightly against the ropes as toward the beckoning sky. Rain drops are released like ballast from the green leaf tips falling in the opposite direction. Landing on lower leaves countless ones dropping all throughout and deep into the field Sam could hear them radiating outward in waves that grew quieter still as they floated away from him.

In the direction of the rows and the setting sun went also the slope of the field it turned a slight incline downwards. Sam thought of the farm he left and that in this direction maybe he could find another and if not just as good a place for spreading out his blanket.

He stepped into the rows. The wet leaves brushing the arms of his coat scratched at the course material over and over. The dirt seemed to want his shoes instead as they grew heavier grazing the mounds and cutting into them at times. The dirt caked layer upon layer as it left the mounds and climb aboard, whose job it was to support the stalks. His shoes saturated with rain and the drying dirt accumulation grew quickly and was hard to walk with them hitting each other like snow shoes and piling in the space between the sole and heel. Sam laughed stomping until the mud let go.

The rows separated in front of Sam, due to a clearing and not his imagination as it turned out. There was a very large stone out of place that the farmer had left and curved his rows around it. The farmer it seems gave the stone a wide berth and Sam liked the shape of it too. Plenty of room around and from the road it held the place down, and the sky completely clear.

A few bright stars could be seen already in the direction he came and convinced Sam it would be better without a roof tonight. He placed the hat on the dry warm stone and stopped to listen. At least he thought that’s why he stopped. He just started listening. Could hear the light wind it came invisibly as always. Barely disturbed the leaves they rubbed against each other gently and back they swayed to the wind when it withdrew. As dark as it was becoming so soon, Sam had to close his eyes to hear the swaying sliding. It was all that could be heard.

The wind and not the wind. No dragging sound this time, which remained still in the back of his mind.
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