AN INNOCENCE
“…the chief guilt of sin depends upon the intention and thought of the heart, which is as the hidden things…to us.”—St. Francis de Sales, Philothea
_____
White dust rose in wake from limestone road as he drove the two-lane road bisecting fields and tracts into neat mile grids. In the fields, crops told themselves by colors, row spacing, heights, and way of leaves.
Corn shone in thirty inch rows, leaves dark green in upward column rise, levels of leaves opening broad to cover space between as leaves and plant grew in stacking climb to sky. In the heat and aridity of the season, leaves curled in upon themselves to guard against a sun and heat drawing scarce moisture away from living plant. Then, when cloud covered or sky cooled, the leaves would open again broadening at softening of sun’s flame.
Soybeans appeared in narrower spacing, fifteen inch rows newly emerged as split of cotyledons—two halves of the rising seed opened and showing deep green in thin ribbon-stripe across dry earth. Shades of paler green began where the first true leaves of plant appeared in opening trifoliate. In aridity, where corn stressed the beans thrived—at least in early stage—but without rain, they too would suffer.
He did not think of stress or aridity of the season. It would rain or it wouldn’t. Such was beyond his control and so, in equanimity, he saw no use to worry.
Unlike the young growth fields of corn and beans, the wheat was made. Day by day, it changed before viewing eyes. Gone was the deep leaf green of March and April, departed the brush-stroke yellow-green of May in awned emergence and after-filling heads of grain.
Now, the wheat was only waiting: waiting for plant to die, for grain to dry, and for the weighted heads to turn in downward bend beneath dried weight of grained-burden: sign for harvest’s start.
Beside the roads, above depressions in ditches that held water after rains but were dry in the aridity, midges hatched and held in pale clouds that under sun and sky appeared as living ends of light-rays fanned from focused sun through filter of rainless cloud dividing light to bands.
He watched the cloud-dance of hatch, ephemeral moment at epitome of purpose in brief life existence: to reproduce and to keep alive the cloud and dance of concupiscence in hope at possibility for another season’s hatch.
He gazed then, in cloud, upon the eternal dance—Creation—year by year, generation through generation until destruction of the world or ceasing of drawn attractions.
He watched the life-cloud dance as fronds and ends of the living light and thought to a spring that, like that soon to be of present world’s, was forever past in time and sky as—both in drift—arrive at summer’s change and one discerns only after, ever so subtle, that season is gone and life is different.
*****
There are experiences in life that, like photograph left to time and exposure, pale and fade in time. There are others, too, no matter their age remain vivid in memory and mind; never dulled, undiminished in detail through and all their times of viewing, returning to, and touching once again.
So was she as memory in their spring.
Of her details, there was always an innocence. Innocence of tan lines and of shorts and shirt in cover of their show. There was checkered-pattern of feet from sandal straps when removed and she walked barefoot before and by his side.
She was always an innocence; and yet, there comes time and age when even innocence no longer waits. When time arrived, it shone in sunset eyes no longer of daylight reflection but a light from within that flickered casting both illumination and shadowed mysteries. Witness to her season change, and honest too of his desires, he loved her as they learned.
Shy and cautious, both few in words but elaborate in signs, they danced as life clouds then in hold above the fields: circling, flittering, flirting, drawing near, then scattering back before repeating full of cycle, ever nearer, ever closer in draw of attraction’s purpose.
Then, in dance, purpose learned. From beginning awkward, uncertainty and search for assurance in other, they made and learned and became through and into the after of awareness and knowledge of the mystery that enthralls and attracts man to woman, again and again, if mankind is to continue as existence beyond finite age of present.
In their after, there remained, still and always, in an innocence; dressed again, tan lines and open skin covered back into reserve, white t-shirt in lavender glow and note of its difference, muted in gleam, from near-toned skin illumed in touch of moon and stars before.
In after days, dance continued: flirt and fleet and draw whenever they were near—flickers of stares in catching eyes, fleet but telling, through campfire lights when, separate, each would disappear from crowd and friends and find themselves together.
Whether ever noticed, they never learned and never cared; and in their agains, they loved and learned more strong and true than in any of befores.
They made love in the woods on days when still, humid air held heavy under canopy of trees until, in gentlest breeze, air was changed when arose a living breath upon the wind that strirred with cool and sweetness as comfort through the shade.
They entered into woods as skyline lit in flame of sunset fire. They began in woods and moved for the open meadow when it was only moon and stars above; making love in ideal of almost-endless summer night that failed only when dream-rose dawn woke in glow through silhouette of woods.
He remembered the fall, false-hope of Indian Summer, when first fronts of early autumn passed and heat returned and one believed—or lied to one’s self—that such may forever be in denial to signs of change in leaves and fields and living world surrounding.
They lain beneath the great white oak whose branches spread low and wide in shelter and shade overseeing virgin prairie unbroken from its sod. They made stronger, held tighter, both in fear of loss and season’s end already happened in the world.
When daylight rose, they stared on the open prairie. It’s summer stand of bluestem—a blue-green span of prairie sea in summer’s height—told then of change in paled leaves and dark maroon stems as the understory of the great white oak tanned from green; wild’s life drawing in upon itself in preparation for winter’s wait: colors, life, and hope for future spring when all would share and reveal itself anew.
As leaves in fall, they fell away.
*****
He watched the living cloud in dance at ends of sun-ray light and knew.
It was always an innocence.
