Beneath the Locust Tree

...Making my way back to the path I continued forward. The sun now stood at a degree where it covered all the land unhindered. It warmed my face and back. Sweat formed on my neck and under my chin, biting when the wind would press its self upon the moisture. Entering back into the woods, now on the other side of the meadow, the forest changed dramatically. Mostly deciduous trees now, with white papery bark of birch and the moldy green rigid surface of locust trees, dripping dew from throny branches. Bony arms weaved together upwards creating a translucent tapestry with strata of yellow and lime green leaves. Long branches that outstretched from thin gnarly trunks bore beards of heavy dank moss, oddly shaped fungi in drab tawny, brick-red, and mauve clung to their woody waists. The stream bounced over fallen trees, zig-zagging in and out of open spaces, ebbing against clay walls, lapping at low hanging branches. This forest seemed more alive, an energy filled the air. My legs picked up naturally with the atmosphere, now in a jolly gait. The smell was fresh, like mint, and balmy on the skin. The path had widened now into a road. Grass grew in the middle, and on both sides, soppy dirt gave beneath my sneakers, squishing loudly.
A small hill rose before me, my mind on other things, on Jerry, his bubbling voice, the odd initials on the tree, that tire. What about that tire? What children swung on it? As I continued along, at once my body reacted to something. I stopped. All the muscles in my face cramped, my legs stiffened almost sending me full lam into the mud.

TAK…CHOCK…CHOCK…TAK…KACHUNK.

The noise berated my head, echoing, almost knocking me over. The sound came from just over the hill. I stood. Silent. My heart raced, my eyes watered and mouth drying fast.

CHOK…TAK….TAK…

I knew that sound. It pained me somehow. Chopping wood all day, all summer.