Way Down We Go

Through the green of the fast growing spring grass rises the tracks of the earth, those pathways made by the animals over the rain washed ground. It emerges strong and rich, the kind of brown that soothes and compliments the blue sky.

In the babe weariness she kicked at the ground with her tail, scuffing the soil. She stopped. Peeking though the lush weeds was not the pale rocky clay of a few miles previously, this soil was so rich it was quite black. She fell to her knees, the soft earth cushioning her fall, and dug her claws into the black gold. The soil here on the delta was different than the time she visited previously. All around her a new life has formed and different herbs and flowers gave way to Spring in a way only Mother Nature could. All that could be seen in front of her was the silhouetted dark shape of the delta, rolling on for miles and visible up until a touch of the raising moon light scathed the horizon. In the darkness, the unexpected scent reached her, of honey- heather- and- gorse bush that seemed to be embroidered into the very landscape.