Evening Walk

The two stand sentry at the edge of the wood, their stance strong and watchful. The wheat field between us shrinks in size as my dog, Captain, and I near the year old deer. The dark green of the foot tall wheat is not a safe enough barrier, and the guards desert their post to escape in the wood.

Turning left down the trail we disappear into the shadow of the loblolly pines. Pines to our left and more wheat on the right envelope the sounds of evening, and a hushed holiness surrounds us. The Earth rejoices one last time before the darkness of night shrouds the beauty of creation.

A hawk screeches a final warning before settling in the trees above, and two geese wing their way to the water to settle down for a rest. The hunting hounds, caged in kennels around the bend, bark their thanks for dinner and then howl their discontent as the owners drive home for the night.

Travelling along the path, we turn onto the dusty road long forgotten, but not yet overgrown. Trees embrace us with their lengthening shadows and the dusky light shines between the bare branches. Tiny, gray leaflets dot the tips of the trees promising Spring is on the way. The sun sinks lower, and light filters through like smoke from an autumn leaf fire.

Turning one last corner, a lone woodpecker taps in the distance. The light here is stronger and makes the last part of our trek more comfortable. Suddenly the cries of several coyotes shred the peaceful worship, and I look over my shoulder. They now stand at the edge of the wood deserted by the deer just twenty minutes ago.

I pick up my pace, not anxious to lose the dog to some hungry mongrels, and set my face toward home. A light in the distance assures me all will be well. The evening star twinkles hello, and the God of the Day is the God of the Night.