Pallet, by Eric Smith

(F.F.F. Website Story)

A bitter expanse of freshly plowed field for a winter crop stands ripped open as the farmer unhitches the massive blindered horses, their sweat steaming, rising. It’s time to return them to the barn for a meal they crave but cannot yet smell. Within minutes, acres of dark brown furrows disappear under a descending white horde of seabirds, searching out newly exposed grubs and appearing as some huge pallet. Then an invisible hand and brush dab as they flap and rise together. Within seconds, behind their great wingspans, they’ve blotted out the blue horizon above and beyond the field.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s