The small boy awoke to the sound of distant light. A square mile of wheat stubble burning. Throwing back an abyss of stars, while grotesque shapes undulated in a paroxysm of organic life.
The boy walked out to the porch where his parents sat in the dark watching.
“Alpha and Omega.” His father said softly, with a face suffused in an orange glow.
His mother’s virginal housecoat had become a linen canvas, alive with color. Standing in mute silence, the boy watched small animals back lit from the fire, flee to deeper shadows.
The Sun eventually rose; muddy and ash streaked. As if a curtain slowly drawn, revealing an agrarian tableau, blackened earth dotted with tiny graves of those animals who couldn’t escape the conflagration.
In the corner of the field, a tractor plowed those tiny sarcophagus’ into and below the ash layer, where green shoots awaited their offerings.
The boy dressed now, walked across the field. His feet leaving a pilgrims dusty trail behind. His mind groped for concepts, while his father’s voice echoed in his ears.
It was in this burnt space at the terminus of two Texas county roads he realized, a Wheatfield could become sacred. He drank deeply from his new realizations, while a Red Tailed Hawk watched him from above.
The End
DS Baker
The boy walked out to the porch where his parents sat in the dark watching.
“Alpha and Omega.” His father said softly, with a face suffused in an orange glow.
His mother’s virginal housecoat had become a linen canvas, alive with color. Standing in mute silence, the boy watched small animals back lit from the fire, flee to deeper shadows.
The Sun eventually rose; muddy and ash streaked. As if a curtain slowly drawn, revealing an agrarian tableau, blackened earth dotted with tiny graves of those animals who couldn’t escape the conflagration.
In the corner of the field, a tractor plowed those tiny sarcophagus’ into and below the ash layer, where green shoots awaited their offerings.
The boy dressed now, walked across the field. His feet leaving a pilgrims dusty trail behind. His mind groped for concepts, while his father’s voice echoed in his ears.
It was in this burnt space at the terminus of two Texas county roads he realized, a Wheatfield could become sacred. He drank deeply from his new realizations, while a Red Tailed Hawk watched him from above.
The End
DS Baker
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