Behind You



A noise as the ground tried, failed to open.   It had the sound of the immobile fighting, tired desperation, to become mobile.  A naked ash cracked and stretched with the wind that wasn’t there, admonishing the ground to remain still.

There came a whisper through the naked trees, approaching the solitary forgotten piece of road.  A tiny wind scampered and played over the ground, disturbing the leaves and dust that were trying to unite into a single substance.  The wind swirled and curtsied, beckoning all around to join her mirthful dirge.  There were few responses.

But wait! the swirl said, Some…thing is here.   Soooooooooon.

The wind twirled, an atmospheric pirouette, and came to rest against a young ash, barely containing the excitement.  It urged all around to stillness, all around to silence.  Nothing changed but a dessicated leaf, disturbed by the dance, coming to rest again.

The silence was sliced open by tires massaging the old asphalt, a chain whose oil was old and tired, but still moving across the sprockets in an almost grudging fashion.  The swirl tried to excite the willow, whose branches stirred listlessly.  The oak similarly could not be enticed into attention.  A whisper traversed the ground, trying in vain to awaken the unconcious.   Undeterred, the swirl went en pointe lightly across the ground, trying to stir they who were passed.   Only when the tires scraping across the dry pavement grew closer was any interest aroused.

A birch swayed forward, more in an effort to make sure its disinterest was well placed than to see what was actually happening.  As it did, the humming scrape grew louder as the tires stirred the detritus across the ground into a new pattern, old friends suddenly thrust into new combinations.

The wind, observing the birch’s half-hearted attention, skipped up the bark.  Coming, it tried to tell the birch, I told you it was coming.  The birch stayed forward for a moment


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