Reasons Enough

I heard a lovely song that was not sung by the writer. Apparently it was a "cover" of the writer's song. Covering his vocals with their own, perhaps? It was a deliciously lovely song. Then I heard the original. I was displeased and could not listen to the entirety of said song for it made my head ache.

I was indoors when I heard the plane this evening. It was flying close and there are no airports around. It passed quickly and I thought nothing of it until I heard it again a minute later. It flew over a few times and I decided it would keep doing so, therefore I went outside and stood upon my lawn by my garden fence and watched.

The plane was a deep yellow and it was the kind used for the "dusting" of crops. It flew so terribly close to the field across the road that it is a wonder it had time to clear the trees. The field is not large, but even so the plane dived again and again into it. It would start dusting before even crossing the road into the field so I discarded the idea of riding my bicycle closer. I did, however, watch until it had finished the field and moved on.

The sun was setting behind the dark clouds which had oppressed the sky all day. It was a deep golden-red that tinged the surrounding clouds with its brightness, smudging together the light and dark as if they were being mixed on a painter's palette. The plane, dark yellow and terribly close as it was, flew again and again past the sun. Its wingtips would light as if ablaze each time it passed below the sun.

The garden is awash in a sea of lush grass (a term I did not understand until the plant all but took over my garden) and squash which does not seem to mind the grass. The flowers around the outside of the white fence - marigold, zinnia, cosmos, morning glory, queen Ann's lace and sunflowers - tilted lazily in the stiff breeze blowing from the south. The dog, stupid animal that he is, chased the plane each time it passed overhead.

I rarely encounter such an alarming beauty created by nature and man alike, but here it was and I was awed.