Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Open Land
by Big_John
"Nathan."
"Amy."
The prairie has its own sound. It's not like anything else. There's the loud: the whir of
insects in the long, deep grass, and in the trees, which are scattered here and there about
the prairie. And there’s the music of all the little birds, swooping low over the tall grass,
courting and singing. But there is a softer sound too, and you can hear it, if you stop to
listen. The wind plays gently in the tall, golden grass. Tiny animals, millions of small lives
create a hushed, intense undertone. This surging life breathes. And this breath, this
heaving breath is a rhythm --- the pulse of the land. Not everyone hears this. You have
to be very still, and you have to lose yourself. Amy and Nathan knew this soft sound,
the hum of the prairie. They could hear it now and they could feel it.
Nathan spread his coat on the ground in front of the old oak.
"Thank you Nathan," said Amy, gracefully settling down onto Nathan's coat, her back
resting against the oak. Nathan carefully seated himself next to her. They both looked
off to the west where the sun was slowing dropping to the horizon, and lush, pastel
hues washed over the sky.
And this land has a shape --- a soft shape, this old land. Millions of years have dulled this
world, smoothed it to a soft, comfortable bed. One could do worse than to rest on this
soft earth. Amy and Nathan sit here right now. This is only one moment --- a single
moment in time. But time has a shape too, and it's a shape you can hold, if you know how.
And if you hold it, it lasts forever.
"I knew you would come, Amy." Nathan put a large hand on Amy's cheek. He ran his
rough fingers over Amy's delicate ear, down to her chin.
"Yes," Amy said with a close, small smile, but with far-away eyes that watched the
sun descend.
The prairie has a smell. In the dusk, the brilliant sky sets the mind at ease; in the face of
such sublime splendor, no worries can find you. The vibrant reds and oranges glow in the
west. Warmth emanates from the setting sun, and this warmth calms the heart. The
tranquil soul can smell the world the way it is: the sweet scent of the rich soil and the
little living and dying things. Grass and mice. Rabbits and wildflowers. Birds and the
infrequent trees. This life has a smell, and its deep aroma is the essence of the prairie.
It permeates everything, and it is inside both of them now.
Nathan took Amy's hand in his, and turned to watch the dying of the day. The setting
sun made Amy's dark eyes sparkle with a stellar gleam. The tall grass, swaying in the
gentle breeze, was dark and mysterious against the fire-bright sky. And Amy was
momentarily overcome by the beauty of the instant. She drew in a quick breath, and
Nathan didn't move at all.
"There is not much to say, I suppose," said Nathan, not breaking his gaze from the
setting sun.
"Words do not matter anymore, Nathan --- only this."
This moment. The soft breath of life and low murmur of the prairie carried to them as
the sun settled down into night. The prairie was completely dark now, backlit only by the
subdued purple glow of twilight. The warmth of the sun had gone now, and Nathan put his
arm around Amy, drawing her near to him in this moment. In the open land, and open sky.
