HIS Pasture

HIS PASTURE

The wind pushed the cottony clouds across the sky as it bent the stalks of sunflowers growing on the green, sun-washed hillside. Most faced towards the sun.

sun-flower

Black and white cattle slowly worked their way through the Meadowlands, searching for succulent blades of grass.

All the while flies swarmed, worrying the cattle with little nips and bites, causing the cow tail to be in nearly constant motion.

Looking down the slope and into the afternoon sun, an old man, lay prone on the earth with a small stem of fresh, meadow grass clenched between his teeth. The wrinkles on his face were deep. His nose was large and had a slight bend near the end to the left.

Small eyes his face had, which were kind of sad.

His overly large ears heard the wind, trees, insects and the lowing of the cattle. The old fellows’ skin was tough looking, with the hue of burnt leather. His hands were working man hands, strong but overused with many scars.

His worn, dilapidated, brown leather boots had seven eyelets. His shirt was brightly colored, pink and blue; it had seven buttons holding it together. His pants were clean, well worn, cotton, also with seven buttons. His sheepskin jacket missing sleeves had seven eyelets like his boots and shirt.

Seven was his number, one could say, like the seven horns used while marching around Jericho while shaking the walls down.

Wednesdays were usually good, not much going on, not many screaming for his attention. No way on Saturday or Sunday.

This was his pasture, his place to regain his mind and spirit.

The old man came here every long now and then to just be.

Not to think, plan, or act. Just to be. His escape when problems were too many, and never simple to resolve.

With the weight of the world on him, he needed time to recharge. He needed peace and alone time, and the whispering wind, low of cattle, and Sunflowers dancing gave him that.

Too soon, the cacophony would resume, his peace a distant memory.
He made a decision and announced to the cows,

“Well, time is wasting and I need to get back at it then!”

He leaped to his feet, but not nearly as smartly as he used to.

His shoulders were now rounded and slumped as he knew the load ahead of him.

But, it was his load and he would do it!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s