Wow! Has it really been ten days? Jeepers. What happened? See, this is where I would begin the entry with, “I’m back.” But I’m not going to do that this time. I will say that today is beautiful, with a golden sun drifting into the trees across the pond. Birds flit along the wind, their songs dancing like the trees. A thin, tall bush, with spindly arms that stretch out and lean over, sways in the breeze, it’s whisker branches tinged green by numerous narrow leaves: the first buds of spring. Man I love this time of year!
So, the word: musical.
He waited in the shadow of the trees, listening. As he focused on the forest before him the sounds of the ocean and the crying gulls faded until they could barely be heard, like distant memories that were remembered more by their presence than the actual thought. He tried to listen for a footfall, the sound of someone moving farther down the path, but he heard nothing. He flexed his hands, hesitant to leave the open sea. He could feel a pull at his heart, though, something in the dimness that flittered in between the foggy trees that called to him and beckoned him on. He knew it was the bundle; his fingertips tingled with the absent sensation of leather and course twine. He swayed like the trees, fighting against himself, knowing that he should just leave and return to the boat and the sea and yet unable to do it. He was compelled to go forward.
And so he walked on.
The trail was thin, as if made by the animals that lived in the forest. Barely wide enough for him to walk broadly, it was still bare of any plant. The only living thing that encroached upon it as it trickled away from the staircase was the occasional root, the finger of a tree that needed to stretch beyond it’s boundary. And yet, as the sailor walked swiftly down it, he had a feeling that the trail was alien and not meant to be here. The forest did not like the bareness of the dark earth, and wanted it back.
The trees rose like columns on either side, silent sentries that stood unmoving at their trunks but swayed with a quiet rustle toward their crowns. They stood several feet apart, the average size being two feet in diameter, and were bare of branches until ten feet or so above the ground. Their bark was speckled gray, though a curl of moss clung greenly where it could. The forest bed however was a solid expanse of low growing plants, ferns and vines that spread out about a foot from the ground, mixed together with thin clusters of grass that seemed to like the base of the trees best. Everything before was gray and green, aided by the fog hanging just above the branches that filtered the sunlight; all, save the thin line of brown that cut through the undergrowth like a knife, and it bore, more or less in a straight course, to the east and deeper into the forest.
Sure! That’ll work. Could be writing again. It definitely feels better than it did a couple of months ago. Though still for some reason my right hand doesn’t like typing. I think it’s this keyboard; I don’t have problems typing anywhere else. Something about when my right pinky reaches for a key…. Anyway, today was fun, and I’ll try to stay more regular. And besides, the sailor is heading a rendezvous with…well, we’ll just have to wait and see. Farewell!
(Dang it! I keep forgetting to use the word. Well, again, the point is just to get writing, so I suppose it served its purpose. But still. I should really use the word.)