The words over at Three Word Wednesday are breeze, mellow and tickle.
Too many aches and pains, he thinks. Too many headaches, heartaches, upset stomachs.
“I’m a young man,” he says to the sunset, the fading spring breeze.
Life weighs heavy, way too heavy.
He picks up a stick to toss, fingers the lichen-covered bark, greenish-brown on the black of the oak branch. The new grass rustles in the wind and tickles bare feet. Above the breeze, he picks up his heartbeat, his breath, the static of blood coursing through capillaries in his ears, and is comforted by the mellow beat.
He tosses the stick and crumples into the grass to watch as blue skies, whitewashed by washboard high clouds, fire to magenta with the setting sun.
He shuts his eyes, opens them and stares into the vastness of open sky.
His retriever makes a wide arc around his prone figure and takes up a sitting position on the man’s left hip. She scans the area, opens her mouth to let her nose get the maximum scent and collapses her black, anvil-shaped head onto the man’s chest.
“We should spend the night right here, just like this.”
Her tail beats a happy response.