Nature Calls

Sunday mornings are meant for sleeping, for rest. That is what the Lord says. Yet I find of late that I am haunted in my subconscious by the abstracts of the world: fear, sorrow and anxiety. I am not one of melancholy, but I am also not one that can find peace with myself in this warm season.

            So, rather than sleep, I walk. I rise early amongst the tiny birds who serenade the morning with their high-pitch chirps. My head may be light and my eye sockets aching, but I find the will to dress myself, feed myself and wearily groom myself so I am presentable to the world.

            Yet who is it that sees me? On a Sunday, everyone is resting. There is movement around me; in the bushes are the cats who stalked the night, on the roads I see cars pass me effortlessly and on the pavements that I walk are walkers and joggers and runners who may or may not walk and jog and run for the same reasons I do.

            I leave the concrete jungle that supplies warmth and sustainability to the families that reside and I enter the forest. The drizzling rain that rat-ta-tapped against my window in the night has formed a soggy layer on the undergrowth. As my feet splatters in the wet mud the strong, putrid smell of the wet landscape repulses my nostrils and for just a moment a vile taste settles on my tongue. As I move on, it passes.

            By this time I feel fresh and at one with nature, something that is hard to find in this ever changing world. I can appreciate the canopy that shrouds me from the sky, high above the treetops. Despite their horrid exterior, I find the charm in the appearance of the black slugs that scour the dirt for nutrition. Even the dog faeces I have to be careful not to step in jovially remind me that life is a circle and not a line. Regardless of this, the best of my venture is still to come.

            On the divide where the trees begin and the trees end, the canopy is peeled away like a banana skin and the sky is revealed. Goldenrod, scarlet, ruby, amaranth, pink, ceil, blue: a transformation from the sun outwards that oversees the crisp clover coloured fields. Glorious can only dent what is inexplicably beautiful otherwise.

            Upon these fields, under that sky, I lose myself and suddenly my subconscious can’t touch me. The worries and woes of the world don’t constrict my stomach for I am mesmerised.

From then on I walk and it is not until I return to my home, my haven, that the problems of our technologically advancing world stain my mind.

Author's Note

I needed an outlet from the revision stress, so wrote something filled with description. Enjoy :)

Reviews

[dreaming dame]

And enjoy I did! I love the way you are able to describe in such detail without losing the reader's interst. :) Great write!:)

[SamBug]

This was very well done. Glad I decided to read it.

[Ruth]

Brilliantly thought out love...the tecnological world stains the mind to a degree...its important to dwell in the land of so called reality also lol
Great work
xx