A traveler on the road through life sat down for a spell under the shade of a lavender tree. It was late summer and his pack was full. “It is good to rest,” he told himself, more to justify respite from the journey than in earnest. Still, the items he carried with him had increased as time went on, as if each turn on the path became more onerous, so a pause would do him some good. Perhaps for the first time, as he sat under that tree, he noticed the dust on his clothes. He had been travelling for quite some time, longer than he would care to know. Autumn would be here erelong, he thought, as the dust on his pack whipped into the air from a random summer breeze. With the branches rustling overhead, he drifted off to sleep with these words in his head:I once fell asleep under a lavender tree,
Supine between surface roots twice the size of me.
Blue-tinged shapes framing an opal afternoon sky,
Lulled me with whispers as a playful breeze blew by.
On a soft patch of moss I laid my weary head,
My body ensconced in a verdant earthen bed.
Dreams flit like monarchs in a sea of marigolds;
They hover over fire deep within my soul.
The weary wayfarer awoke, awash in white blossoms, his catnap in no way matching the blissful slumber of his dream. He shook himself off and peered down the road whence he came, the surface heat distorting his perception. He didn't look long, for there was no turning back. No homeland awaiting his eventual return. The road ahead, however, beckoned him. So he stood there a bit longer to enjoy the shade before he took up his burden and continued on his way to an undiscovered country.
