Barry Smith: COUNTING SHEEP

The hut has a backdrop of beech with an aspect to the mountains. You sigh as your shoulders slide from the pack straps. The sun mirrors off the snowfields above and you turn closed eyes to its warmth. It is a remote hut with little chance of visitors and the beech forest has a handy supply of standing deadwood, easily broken into hearth-sized logs. You gather enough and remove your boots in the last of the afternoon sun. High cirrus fills the sky as the billy simmers. The stew is good. Warm in your sleeping bag you watch shadows fight on the wall as the last log lights up. It rains and makes a gentle sound on the tin roof. Later, you’ll wake to hear the rain easing.
.

morning sky
a beam of sunlight

birdsong

by Barry L Smith
Hamilton, New Zealand