A Daydream Gently Ending

In the centre of some distant stone village
She sits cross-legged in the cobblestone square

There’s no one else here
Not in the square
Not in any of the stone houses
Neither finished nor half-built
Not in the woods beyond the tiny village

Even the birds are silent today
Denying her one of nature’s simplest pleasures
Perhaps they would carry no weight anyway
On a day like this

With the weather so calm
And the village so deathly empty
There’s no need for clothing
But she wears soft cotton anyway
Unable to let go of any deeply rooted comforts
She may still find in the final moments
Or maybe she’s just being mindful
Of any who may stumble upon this village later
Or maybe she’s really just hopeful
Someone may come by a little sooner

Twilight filters through some tree tops
Orange lines thick and thin
Shifting with the light wind
Maple leaves lend their autumn red
Dulling the evergreen cedars she loves
But they’re forgiven in their season
This is their turn, after all

The cool breeze against her cheek
Is attempting to soothe her
She allows it
Autumn was always her favourite season
And today she’ll take what she can get

Tools spread in a semicircle around her
She weighs her options carefully
Before making a selection

She picks up the carved box
That holds her hoarded stash
She chose it carefully, months ago
To serve this important duty
To hold her growing collection
It was empty then
Now she shakes it by her ear
It rattles lightly
The sound is exciting
The sound is terrifying

She sets the box in her lap
She carefully removes the lid and sets it aside
She looks down
So much white inside
But with other colours scattered, the purity spoiled
Is a visual treat

She runs her fingers through the shifting piles
Her little saviours
Her little executioners

She takes in hand the first drink from beside her
She’ll need help to take these all in

It takes longer than she expected
She thinks, but she’s not really sure
Time seemed to disappear
Time seemed to warp her between
The full box
And the empty box

Maybe someone will find the box
Days, months, years later
And give it a good home

The task is done
All that’s left is to wait

She sets the box down gently
Pushes the rejected options away
Reclines slowly
And waits

As she lies on her back
She stares up at the few finished roofs
Left sheltering nothing after all
Quickly deciding she’d rather
Stare at the treetops
To watch their leaves dance

As she lies there in that silent square
She hugs the planet backwards
She runs her fingers across the ground
Feeling the curves and rough edges
Of the cobblestones she cut and placed
With her own hands

Shame, she couldn’t figure out
How to show anyone her handiwork

By the time the sun is easing into hiding
Her eyelids are also so heavy
She can’t stay awake
Her eyelids close of their own accord
Before the orange lines can disappear

She’s not sure if it was real
Or if she was half-dreaming as she drifted off
But she could almost swear that little sound
There, just now, was the first bird
She’d heard chirping in so long

Drowsing thoughts question her
From behind closed eyes
Maybe she made a mistake today
Maybe she’ll have another chance
Maybe someone will find their way here
In time to help her

But for now
The sun is below the horizon
The birds are silent again
And the dancing leaves
Have disappeared

November 19-20, 2024

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