I walked alone in the lush green forest,a deep silence pervading the landscape. The symphonic rustle of shiny leaves on the trees whispered gently into my ears, a melody that went unheard so often. The tiny blades of grass waltzed as gentle gusts of wind caressed them. The tranquil repose around infused into my turbulent mind extinguishing the fiery flames in my mind’s cauldron.
Is the coast clear? Yes, you can come out now. Oh no! Not until you back up. Why? I’m not going to hurt you. I want to see! You can see from a distance, now back up!! No! I’ll just sit here instead. Is that OK? Oh alright.
“Hey, Plum. Come here!” Wade gave a shrill whistle.
The mostly black-and-white Jack Russell lifted his smooth nose from the long grasses. His sharp eyes finding his master with a sparkle of excitement. Yes, the dog was called Plumber. Not to be verbose about it, but on his first day living with the family they had to call a plumber for a leak in the kitchen. The dog got beneath his feet and knocked him flat on his face. That was it, the name stuck and the little Terrier was always known as Plumber – Plum for short.
“Plum! Come on!” Wade called again, determined to stop the dog from getting stuck in rabbit holes along the trail.
They were back, after all that time, back in the forests they loved, and by the lake. There was no noise, part from the low howling of the eastern wind in the trees, and from time to time the sound of water droplets from where a fish, or its ghost, came to the surface. Silently they stripped, and entered the water, walking until they knew it would get much deeper.
Gentle water spirits play beneath reflected sky. While a fallen log floats free towards a flowered bank Where humans walk hand in hand Under moonlit skies, beyond the trees, the mountains whisper of magic Laid down by ancient hands
Arthur Undertaker stood by the lake edge, pulling the thin cloth around his little belly and shivered. He was cold, hungry, his knees reminded him of his excess weight, he wished he’d insisted on shoes and he wanted to scream. To his right Merlin shuffled his feet.
I hope his bunions are playing up, thought Arthur sourly. Why did I listen to the silly sod? He’s never been right yet, at least not since he lost a third of his small intestine to complications following experimenting with his Solstice Wassail, which turned out to be a rather anaemic raspberry and mistletoe cappuccino.