THE GNOME PROJECT

The road was looking a little rough after the storm last night.

Branches and leaves were strewn about with no apparent sense of order.Large puddles pooled along the edges where the drainage farther down had given up.

The clouds had cleared by midnight, and now a few of the brighter stars in Orion’s Belt showed through the scant clouds in the early morning sky. There was no hurry in Zephyr’s step as he walked around the puddles. His boots squelched softly; the air smelled of wet fir and cool earth.

Up ahead, an old friend—the opossum—was nosing through the ditch. They fell into pace together, unhurried, talking about where apples might still be found this late in the year.

“The orchard up on Maplethorn Hill,” said the opossum.

“Always a few late ones left.”

“Always,” Zephyr nodded.

As they walked, his boot slipped in the mud.

“Careful there,” said the opossum with a toothy snort.

Zephyr grinned. “Seventeen times a misstep, and still not enough to teach me.”

When they reached the base of Maplethorn Hill, they stopped.

The opossum slipped off through the brush, tail flicking once before disappearing.

Zephyr watched the branches settle, and a familiar tune stirred in his head.

Marching down the lane with a whistle and a bang,

Got a tune in my pocket and a rattle in my brain.

Step high, drum low, let the happy echo grow —

Breathe in, let it out — this is what it’s all about.

Road dust rising where the sunlight breaks,

Stories linger in the paths we make.

Steps find rhythm with the sway of the trees —

The world hums along in quiet harmonies.

Crossroads fading where the wild fields bend,

Every mile behind feels closer to a friend.

The day hums low as the light grows thin —

One road ends, another begins.

Night settles soft with a whisper and sigh,

Stars blink open in the cooling sky.

Tune in my pocket, peace in my chest —

Breathe in, let it out — the world will do the rest.

He hummed it softly, stepping into the bushes on the other side of the road. Droplets from the maple leaves above fell now and then, keeping easy time with the rhythm of his tune.

Before long, the sound of both—the water and the song—faded into the quiet morning.