The Hay Field

Originally Published December 31, 2021

The mist was like a fine rain this morning, except that it didn’t fall. It just hung in the air like a cool and gentle elixir.

Last night we watched the clouds advance over the hay field, cut and fallow, and so wide you could almost feel the curvature of the earth, captured only by the hammock at the far edge.

The sun faded behind bursts of gray and silver, only occasionally revealing the turquoise sky behind. We sat quietly until all turned to stillness.