Waiting. She sat, waiting. Hidden in the boughs of an ancient tree, she swayed in motion with the moving of the wind. Her heart beating in time with the pulse of the living land. This was her home, her soul. How could it not be? And she was waiting.
Time passed, sun moved, clouds journeyed on, pushed by an uncompromising and insistent wind. She turned at the crunch of underbrush, small feet making their way along. Deer, denizen of the forest, ignorant of her presence, stopping to nibble at the brush around it. Chitter of a squirrel. She looked over to see it sitting on the branch of a tree, scolding its counterpart for invading its space. Flutter of wings. Attention drawn away as a group of small songbirds bustled up into the sky and away, startled by some unseen threat. And she was waiting.
A time to rest, to think. Closing eyes she leaned back against the tree, silent herself, listening to the music of the wood. Music… indeed music. She could almost feel the low booming bass of the earth’s heart, beating out a persistent tune. Ever beating, ever lasting, as old as time, though the rhythm sometimes faltering, changing, but always pulsing once more, even if to a different time. But ever present. And she was waiting.
Noise, from down the path. Squeals and shouts. Sounds of another kind. Penetrating. Vibrating. Invading. She saw on the path people, oblivious to the land they were treading upon. Birdsongs ceased unnoticed. Squirrels retreated unseen. Deer fled unheard. Earth’s natural boom drowned in artificial rhythm. She watched silently as the group passed unknowing, below where she hid. Did they know – really know – the world in which they lived? Doubtful. Theirs was a world of “technology” – gadgets and gizmos. Noise, not music, pervaded and ruled their lives. Whatever would they do if all their toys were silenced? Would they be able to hear the undying beat of an ancient heart? Or were they already too deaf to hear? It was a matter that for the time would be unsolved. She watched as they disappeared down the path, noise fading with them. Again the boom of an age-old rhythm as the earth-music was once more given audience. The beat in her chest thumped in time. The song tentatively stepped forth, then more confidently. Wind blew, trees swayed, animals chattered, and she breathed… and waited.
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