Lost Time

Lost Time

He picked up the pail heavy with corn. He’d walk the hundred yards to the treeline. Just as he’d done nearly every winter afternoon for the past dozen years.

This was the first year without Caesar. He’d thought about getting another dog, but knew it would outlive him.

He savored the peace when the world is wrapped in two blankets; one of snow and the other of clouds.

He was in luck this afternoon. The clouds thin and broken to reflect red and orange, that backlight bare trees on the hill.

He carefully poured the corn onto the ground. Hearing the honk of geese, he looked up to see a line toward the stream. The colors deepened and added pink and blue and purple.

He looked back to call Caesar. He smiled at his loss of time. Then smiled at the memory of the dog.

The color leached out of the sky. White snow, black trees, gray sky. White and faded pink just above where the sun had set.

He walked back toward his wife and supper waiting for him. A single small light in every window of his house. This was wife’s traditional Christmas decoration.

The sight drove the chill from his body. Time left him again. His mind wandered between Christmases as a child, a father, and grandfather. Each one on this farm.

He opened the door and stepped inside. Its warmth and smell of his wife’s cooking embraced him like a hug. His wife came around the corner smiling, and gave him a hug of her own.

Six deer came out of the trees to eat the corn the man left for them.

• Poem