That summer I lived alone.
The pasture was hip deep in orchard grass, brome and rye. I’d never seen it so lush and beautiful. The man had always mowed it down with his tractor, but he was gone now and he wouldn’t be back.
The grass, set free for the first time in years, set flowers atop its slender sheaths.
Pollen billowed over the field like smoke.
I took off my shoes and walked away from the cabin that man and I had built and out into that untamed prairie.
I lay down on its thatch and was born again.