The Walk. A short story by Charles Roberts

 

I walk through the field, through the field of tall grass.  My shoes and trousers wet with the rain drenched grass, running my hands across the tops of the grassy flowers and seed heads, feeling their softness on the palms and fingers of my hands.  As I walk I watch the tall grass swaying in the slight breeze, the way it all moves as the sea, wave after constant wave, moving in an almost hypnotic way.

          I listen to the larks as they circle overhead, watch as the butterflies flitter up from the unseen flowers deep within the tall grass, crickets chirruping their song, calling out for a mate or to ward off rivals.  Swallows and Swifts seemingly flying without effort, beaks open to catch flies and other flying insects; swooping and diving, climbing and turning, masters of the air.  Oh to be able to do that, I thought, as I watched one swift skimming the tops of the grass then climbing up with one flap of its wings, turning at the top of its climb and swooping down once more for another fly or insect which foolishly showed itself above the grass flowers.

          And always that fresh grassy smell filling the air, almost lifting my senses into another world.  That fresh grassy smell you always get after the rain.  My soaked trousers clinging to my legs with their wetness, covered now with grass flowers, pollen, and seeds sticking like limpets to the seaside rocks.  I look back to see the track I have carved through the grass, not a straight track, but a meandering one.  I laugh and think that I am walking on the wild side of life, the side where nature is the ruler and I simply a pawn in her game.

          In the near distance, a Kestrel, head into the breeze, wings fluttering, tail flicking from left to right, and back, in order to keep its head steady, hovers as it looks down into the long grass searching for prey.  It dips a little as it moves position to look in another place, then suddenly drops down like a stone, disappearing into the long grass, just for a moment or two, emerging with a small mammal in its talons; then flying off to a fence post to eat.  I move on through the tall grass, feeling its wetness on my legs, smelling its fragrance as I walk, gently stroking its seed heads and flowers with my hands; I am in another world, free from all care and worry.