The forest was quiet, we sat quite still. Not a word to speak or reason to stir. The tree before us entranced us enough, we had no need for diversions.
A rustling down the hill turned our heads.
“A deer?” you guessed.
“Not the wind,” I replied.
We continued to sit in calmness, for what could harm us out here?
The rustling approached and grew to a commotion, as if urging us to move. The bushes nearby shook and parted.
Time came striding by, and paused. It was in a hurry to get somewhere, as time so often is, and was confused by two who weren’t.
Most of life, in a way, is spent simply filling hours. Grand schemes and lofty goals, urgent chores and fleeting pursuits. All require an eye on the clock, to plan and progress and reach some measured end.
Our forest day was none of this. We had no schedule to keep, no list of items to do, and no place else to be.
We had no need of time. Without a care we waved it on.
It frowned and turned and continued its march, off to harry a busy world. We sat back to contemplate the tree.
Some days we pass the time, some days time passes us.
It evens out in the end.