Vagabond - part 1: Autumn

Vagabond - part 1: Autumn Sunlight glistens off cornstalks moist with early morning dew. A spider's web shines like a lace curtain festooned with pearls. The road stretches invitingly before me, and I savor the cool autumn air. As I walk I brush the last of the pine needles from my clothing - a consequence of sleeping under the shelter of the trees. Albuquerque was a long time ago, and I almost have to strain to see her face in the mirror of my mind. The memories linger, and I smile. Bluejays cackle at me from the field, and I playfully chuck a stone in their general direction just to see them start and fly away. Past the cornfield is an enormous patch of ripening pumpkins - bright orange against green vines. Visions of myriad Jack-o-Lanterns glowing gleefully on All-Hallows Eve make me smile yet again. Next to spring, harvest time appeals to my sensibilities. The transitioning seasons bring me the greatest pleasure, and I can well do without summer's dry heat and winter's scornful chilly dampness. An approaching dust cloud warns me of a vehicle of some sort heading in my direction. I gingerly step off the track as the high-laden hay truck careens precariously by. The farmers are always in a hurry to get their goods to market. Down the road a bit I see a house - at one time painted white, the cracking tint now almost like spatters of milk or eggshells on a grey wooden backdrop. There is a well, and I eagerly crank the pump handle to draw up some water to quench my burgeoning thirst. A face appears momentarily at the window. "Excuse me, ma'am.  Is it alright if I take a little water - I'm mighty thirsty?" The lady stands at the screen door, aproned over gingham, barefoot, blonde hair tousled as if by the wind. "Sure now.  You kin use that thar bucket so's you don't make too much mud by the pump." I thanked her and drank deeply. The water was cool and refreshing - like the glint in her blue eyes. "Is there any work a feller can do around these parts to earn a meal?" I asked, as I hadn't eaten in a day or two. "Got a barn and a stable need cleanin' over thar.  I reckon I kin feed ya if'n you git in an hour or two work." -to be continued- 3/24/2002I'm not quite sure whether this is poetry or straight prose. So I put it here anyway *grin*. Please comment. Written March 24th, 2002 © on Mar 24 2002 10:41 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 10