The Past Is Not Far From Here

The Past is near The creaking sound of un-oiled cart wheels crushing tiny pebbles on the sandy lane as the night drew near. The prudent eyes of a mule saw me, hesitated, then carried on walking its own ancient dream and the old farmer, afoot beside his friend, murmured something about the weather and soil. I left the lane and came upon a field where contented cattle rested, chewing cud and sighing into the long night… Laid down, on soft grass, looked up to the sky as clouds parted and the moon sprinkled the earth with a handful of silver and dogs wailed their sorrow up to the light of their God.