1.4 Now And Then

MY BACKYARD

As i stand cemented on the firey paper leaves, my ears are drawn to the chirps, so loud they sound like a symphony orchesta rippling through the air. They come in clusters, exact in their own pattern but still so free. The cold licks at my face and creeps under my clothes, spreading across my skin like the tide on a beach.

Below me, massive roots dance in and out of the ground looking for their next victim to trip, while above their powerful limbs atempt to reach the sky. I take one hand and run it along the towering ash tree, my fingertips grip onto the crevices that run through the bark. My eyes come to rest on the pattern, cracks like a parched summer desert. I feel the texture of the tree, leaves, and even the dirt, and I can taste the freshness of the afternoon air. There is a distinct fragrance of leaves and soil that are crunching with every step.

There is a calmness, as if all the gold, berry reds and browns that are fluttering about are a cozy quilt. There is a old glass house that sits in the corner which is full of bath tubs with overgrown weeds. Some chickens graze through looking for their next meal, while some bask in the piles of dirt beside soaking up the last of the afternoon sun. Infront of me hangs the swing. The weathered wood hangs motionless from fraying threads. The breeze gently taking control of it, rocking it back and forth. I wonder now how long it had been alone in the wind, waiting, always waiting for the return of laughter and play.

The sun sank lower in the sky, light of day draining away, giving way to the velvety dark of night.Its a completley different place, everything is turned into something mysterious and unknown. Amid the starlight was the glimmer of the moon. That mother of the sky whom watched over every beating heart, steady and true.She shone down, glistening over the roofs of houses and streching over the tallest trees. A suttle glow that is lighting the backyard from pitch black to a charcoal grey.

The barking of faraway dogs brake the silence of the night, and the occasional lost car zooms past the road outside. Most of the creatures are asleep, except for the few that come alive during the night. The scratching of the possum, crickets chirping and the soft pur of the cat fill the air with the rustling of leaves and the whisps of wind blowing up against everything in its way. Beside me the gate creaks within the breeze. It had been sturdy once when it was made. Solid cedar wood held together with great iron nails. But as the years go on the colour has bleed away and the rot has taken control. The hinges and nails have become rusted and the gate hangs at a jaunty angle. It gives me the impression that one good gust of wind could finish it off.

Up the back the abandoned shed shuddered in the breeze, wishing the morning light would come all the sooner to warm its weary walls. The ivy clings onto the battered wooden boards on the outisde giving it a spine chilling look. It looks so alone, so empty. I feel a gust of wind that provides a cold breeze that runs across my face as i glance up to the sky. The moon all wrapped up in clouds. Stars align in the sky but the one lone star as bright as gold,shines brighter then them all. I feel myself sinking into the world but i hear my mothers voice calling me for dinner, i get up with a sigh and walk back inside into the real world.