After the Rain
Winds howls by, whipping tree branches as though they are weightless. Streetlight reflections glisten on sidewalks, looking like unmoving flames, almost all shiny white.
Now, the sidewalk looks like a checkerboard, as the water dries, and the outlines are seen. Still bitter cold, making me think it should be snow. People tell me I should be grateful it’s rain, not snow, but I say to them that you can shovel away snow, while wind-driven rain will soak anything and everything in seconds. Just another episode of wait-a-minute weather in the late Fall of New England.
A forest of green, sweet smelling and delicious. Yummy seeds, good to eat; I’ll fill up before carrying some back. Gentle breeze carries lots of smells. Sniff, sniff! What’s that? Oh, no, a cat!
Hurry, hurry! Can’t let them catch me! I hold it inside my jacket, close to me, away from the cold and from eyes. Away from them all. They want it, and they’ll take! Precious, so precious.
The green calls me, and I walk along the paths, mindful of foot-tripping and ankle-twisting roots and rocks, stepping around slickery mud and leaves, listening to the scurrying of unseen animals in the neighboring undergrowth. I take a step, sense something, turn, and….
What is that, transparent as smoke, sometimes wolf, sometimes human male, woodsman-clad and beckoning, before changing? What is going on, a mind game, or am I sleepwalking? I am awake, I think, and yet here he is, summoning me. My teacher, my spirit guide, here, away from my dreams, away from mountains and lake, here in the deep woods, calling me, saying “Welcome home?”