Love stories. Skylark by Dewey Edward Chester… “You feel my obsession? We are obsessed together…” Enjoy your day, Yareah friends.
“Are you afraid, Dear?”
“No, do you think that I am?”
“I told you before,” she assured, “I understand it all.”
“You feel my obsession?”
“We are obsessed together.”
“Will you wait with me?”
“All right, she assured, when we reached the heart of Panther Hollow. “I will wait with you as long as you need me.”
A Skylark alighted on a bough not five feet away. Almost at the level of our faces.
Perhaps it had not seen us. It was in the sun and we were in the shade. It spread out its wings, fitting them carefully into place again, ducked its head then began pouring forth a torrent of song.
In the afternoon hush the volume of its music was startling. We clung tightly together now, fascinated.
The music went on and on—–minute after minute, with astounding variation—–never once repeating itself, as though the bird was showing off its virtuosity.
Sometimes it stopped for a few seconds, spread out and resettled its wings, then swelled its speckled breast and again burst into song.
I watched it all but wondered for whom, for what was this bird singing? No mate, no rival was watching it. What made it sit on the edge of a lonely meadow and pour forth its sound into nothingness? Was this called love?
The bird’s music got mixed up with the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. So I stopped thinking and merely felt.
Her waist was in the bend of my arm, it felt soft and warm. I pulled her around so we were breast to breast, her body yielding into mine.
Whenever my hands moved, her body yielded. Our mouths clung together. When we moved our faces apart we both sighed deeply.
The bird took flight and fled with a chatter of wings.
I put my lips to her ear and whispered, “I love you.”