Fantasy: Last sun of Autumn
It is the last Sun of Autumn, and the day is beautiful! From my seat in the meadow, the sky is a deep Forget-me-not blue: cloudless, and endless. Fringeing my window to the sky are the dried out blades of the meadows grasses. They reach high into the air, leaping into the sky, and whisper of Summer when the winds rush through them. But their sun-baked yellow is a quiet reminder of the Cold that must come.
For now, though, they dance. Bending, bowing, waving and jumping - celebrating the last of the sun before the Highveldt sleeps.
Beneathe their voices, I hear a softer sound. The curious, rustling, scuttling scurry of another. Then through the grasses, peeps a face.
A pink dusted nose, edged with silver whiskers and a long, furry face. A pair of black, sparkling eyes, and two large, velvet ears. The little mouse watches me curiously, her nose twitching at the end of her snout. I smile, croon a greeting and beckon her closer with a crumbed biscuit in my hand. With decided bravery, the little she-mouse darts across an open patch of ground, lying low beneathe the sailing winds, and stops short before my fingers. She sniffs again, then tentatively takes the biscuit, and pushes it into the back of her cheek. I grin when she sniffs at my hand again, hopeful for another treat. I think she will turn and leave. But then the little mouse surprises me. Closing her eyes, she pushes her head into my hand, and nuzzles her face deep into my palm. A warm delight that soothes Autums chill spreads up through my arm, and into my chest, where the feeling of it settles cosily beneath my heart. I tickle lightly behind her ears, finding a giggle begin to flutter out of my belly, and dance above us like bells in a Summer breeze. Her face is friendly, and wise when she finally scuttles back, and sits on her hind legs to watch me. A wave of fondness sweeps through me when I wave a quick goodbye. Then she turns, darts and disappears, with her tail trailing brightly through the grasses behind her.
For now, though, they dance. Bending, bowing, waving and jumping - celebrating the last of the sun before the Highveldt sleeps.
Beneathe their voices, I hear a softer sound. The curious, rustling, scuttling scurry of another. Then through the grasses, peeps a face.
A pink dusted nose, edged with silver whiskers and a long, furry face. A pair of black, sparkling eyes, and two large, velvet ears. The little mouse watches me curiously, her nose twitching at the end of her snout. I smile, croon a greeting and beckon her closer with a crumbed biscuit in my hand. With decided bravery, the little she-mouse darts across an open patch of ground, lying low beneathe the sailing winds, and stops short before my fingers. She sniffs again, then tentatively takes the biscuit, and pushes it into the back of her cheek. I grin when she sniffs at my hand again, hopeful for another treat. I think she will turn and leave. But then the little mouse surprises me. Closing her eyes, she pushes her head into my hand, and nuzzles her face deep into my palm. A warm delight that soothes Autums chill spreads up through my arm, and into my chest, where the feeling of it settles cosily beneath my heart. I tickle lightly behind her ears, finding a giggle begin to flutter out of my belly, and dance above us like bells in a Summer breeze. Her face is friendly, and wise when she finally scuttles back, and sits on her hind legs to watch me. A wave of fondness sweeps through me when I wave a quick goodbye. Then she turns, darts and disappears, with her tail trailing brightly through the grasses behind her.
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| In the Fairy Bower - John Anster Fitzgerald |
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