The Backyard

Autumn sat deep within the forest.

Clouds had lined up in the sky to watch her colors, leaving no space for the sun to gaze through.

She combed her colorful hair with the wind and cast a gentle look around.

At the end of a nearly dirt road, a house of stone and wood appeared; a small, warm home whose windows, on that damp and dark day, glowed like bright stars and caught her eye.

The backyard of the house was separated from the forest by nothing but a wooden fence. At its far end, a clothesline hung — and it was not alone.

Step a little closer, and a soft sound could be heard.

The woolen garments, swaying on the line, seemed to breathe and to laugh; they swung in the wind without fear of rain or of getting wet, held only by the simplest of pegs.

A smile touched Autumn’s lips. She whispered under her breath:

“Isn’t life just this? Who can turn day into darkness, or night into light? Then dance in the rain — for perhaps no storm will follow.”