Field Whisperer | Teen Ink

Field Whisperer MAG

By Anonymous

   As I walk through the soft, tall grassin my grandfather's pasture, I can't even explain how peacefulmy soul is. A breeze too strong to just be a breeze comes upbehind me. I turn toward the push of the wind on my back andfeel it hit my face with a soft kiss. It pulls back my hairthat was lying on my shoulders, but is now brushed by the windlike the hand of God is patting my head. The golden,efforescent sun is to my left and keeps me warm as the windcools me off. The green grass waves in the direction the windpushes it along, my fall jacket pulls slightly back, showingthe thin curves of my body. Leaves rustle by me from far away.There are no trees, so they must have blown from a far-offplace where the colors are brilliant oranges, fire-engine redsand blinding yellows. They crinkle and crunch as they raceeach other to see which will get to the far side of the fieldfirst. I turn to watch them flutter by and my hair floats intomy face, tickling my eyes. I turn back to face the wind andlisten to it whisper in my ear a soft song that calms me likea hot bubble bath on a frosty day. I close my eyes and amwhisked away into a silent serenity. It is almost like havinga dream, standing in the middle of a green field with the windtwisting around me, telling me the secret to life when in factwe are living that secret. My reverie numbs my body; I feelweightless. I am awakened by a noise from far, far away. Iopen my eyes; my mother is calling me, saying it is time toleave. I hide my sorrow with a smile, knowing that when I comeback to my grandfather's field the wind will whisper to mysoul some more.

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This article has 1 comment.

i love this !