Maria Magdalena.
The wind was fresh and light. She was standing in a field that had recently been mowed. The village was hidden from sight and lay beyond a bend in the hills. She stood alone in the field in the late afternoon, as the land started to cool from the heat of the day, and the hills and trees began throwing lengthening shadows across the plain.
She was dressed in a white dress with blue borders, and the light mountain breeze hugged it in curves about her hips and bosom. Her bangles were brightly polished copper bracelets that dangled about her ankles and wrists as she walked through the field. A bird flew by in swirling dives and disappeared among the trees further on. It was a swallow she had noticed, and she smiled to herself.
Her hair was long and dark, and hung freely about her strong shoulders. The wind wafted long strands of it across her face from time to time. She was beautiful and young, with the joy of life that young people experience. She was at peace with herself and nature; the green fields of the valley about her. A few shepards and their flock could be seen on a distant hill. They grazed their sheep on serenely as they waited for the afternoon to pass before they returned home.
She thought of him a while, but only a little while, and smiled secretly to herself. Then the thought passed, and she looked out over the landscape again as she wandered on along the footpath through the field. She came to a large thorn tree, and went and stood under its shade for a while. It was dark and cool underneath the broad, spread out branches. The wind caressed her face, and her lovely, curved red lips tasted the fresh air and the freedom of the boundless expanse of nature.
Her nose was elegantly curved and rose to the top where it flattened out meet her forehead, and broad brows. Her eyes were dark, mysterious and beautiful. The cool of the late afternoon and the wind and shade, touched her body gently as she stood and watched the plain and valley about her. A few fine grains of leaves fell from the branches above and sprinkled about her as a dove took it perch high up in the tree. It fluttered about with self-importance, until it finally settled on its perch, and became quiet.
A shimmer of heat could be seen on the distant hills, despite the coolness of the late afternoon underneath the thorn tree. Sheep from the nearby flock bleated faintly in the distance. She wandered on a short while later and rejoined the footpath that would lead her to the road. It was getting late, and it would be a good time to return home, and prepare supper.
Her white dress flowed gently and comfortably about her, and her hips swayed rhythmically as she walked between the long grass. A few tiny blue butterflies flew past in a patch of grass as she progressed. The sun was setting red beyond the mountains, and the sky was clear and blue. The cool wind swirled and flowed on endlessly over the grass of the valley, and over the hills. She walked on back home absent-mindedly, lost deep in her own thoughts, as the darkness of the coming evening started creeping into the valley…
The End.
JP Brown.
