The old wheelbarrow set undisturbed against the old persimmon tree in the front yard, sort of upside down, with the wheel up where it would not hold water from the rains; not that it could hold water since it had a few small holes in its bucket. Under it in the cool shade sat a strange stray cat holding a mouse in its mouth, no longer struggling to live. We looked at each other for a while and I went back to my reading. A few pages later I noticed the cat had gone and a warm breeze had begun coming out of the south bringing with it the earthen smell of the empty field across the road and not a small amount of sandy dust.
I put the book down on the table and looked out across the road. I was amused for a while by the many small dust devils that would kick up here and there in the field, exist a second or two then disappear instantly only to kick up again a few yards away.
Stepping off the porch onto the grass I faced the setting sun with my eyes closed and enjoyed the sun's warmth on my skin with the earthen smell of the field still on the air and remembered the strange cat under the wheelbarrow with the mouse in its mouth. From somewhere over my shoulder up in one of the trees a dove cooed softly for a moment and then I heard its wings cut the wind as it flew close over me. I opened my eyes and saw the dove fly toward the setting sun and then turn a little bit to make it to the pond for a drink of the cool, still water there.
I then climbed up the steps onto the porch and picked up my book to go inside the house for a little nap. I took off my hat and set it down on my bedside table along with the book. On the top of my hat was a little bird poop. Well, it needed washing anyway.