Mystery
by Mark Reep
In a corner of a neighbor's land too stony to till Cob makes a mystery. The small pines are budding, and today he brings an armload of stakes, pocketfuls of baling twine, soft rags to keep the bound seedlings from wind-chafing. For a moment, Cob sees clearly a far-off summer day, a child smiling, wondering. With his good stone he sharpens his shears to a fine bright edge, begins pruning.
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Author's Note
Inspired by a photo I saw on facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=205380622861342&id=1799273187
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This little mystery sparkles with (to me) an unknown purpose. I love a mystery. Wasn't there a radio program by that name many years ago? Fav.
I've seen this phenomenon before, mostly at the edges of rivers that breech. Don't know what causes it, know even less about how the quantity of trees in that picture got that way. God, but I love these things.
fave
Mystery; you've got magic, and the hand that makes it. Superb. Faved.