Scott Knutson
The Dove in the Desert
The Dove in the Desert
As he walked, the sun beat down on him with the intensity of a blast oven. He had left himself behind and started this journey on a whim. And while he liked to walk with his head up, looking forward to enjoy what lay ahead, the plethora of cacti in his path blocked his way, forcing him to look down to watch his step. Though he tried to be careful, a cactus needle would occasionally find its way into his sandled feet.
Walking slowly, he tried to make sense of the thoughts floating around in his head. But like a farmer walking with arms full of fruit, trying not to drop any but having one escape on nearly every step and two falling while trying to gather in the first, he couldn’t quite keep the thoughts together long enough to make any sense of them. Confusion reigned.
At the top of a small rise he stopped. Looking around, he saw nothing but cactus - no animals, no buildings, no humanity. Heat waves wafted up off of the ground like the steam rising from his morning cup of hot tea. His feet burning, he sat down on a large warm rock, laying his meager belongings in the sand near the rock. Crossing his right leg onto his left knee, he began to look at his foot. On his right foot he found one puncture wound; dried blood gathered around the hole, working as a dyke to keep fluids in. Doing the same with his left, he found three needles still working vainly to burrow further into his flesh. All were oozing, though the wound on his right foot had nearly stopped. Noticing an aloe vera plant poking out from beneath the rock he sat on, he broke off a piece of aloe and rubbed the exposed flesh of the cactus on his wounds.
When he finished dressing his wounds, he looked up and saw the first animal he had seen in many days. A dove had landed near him while he was tending the punctures in his feet and was watching him intently.
Gathering his belongings and swinging the knapsack over his shoulder, he stood up. His sudden movement startled the dove, which immediately flew off its perch, leaving three feathers behind. One fell near his right foot; the others out in front of him onto the path he was following. His feet, earlier screaming at him for his abuse of them now murmured softly, as though having been bathed in soothing oils. Feeling refreshed and somewhat energized, he began walking again, down the path that had led him this far.
As he walked, he noticed the dove again, perched on a small mesquite tree several yards ahead of him. A cool breeze caressed his face. His thoughts, once jumbled and difficult to connect, were now flowing together seamlessly. Everything finally made sense.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head to his left. Something had startled the dove again, and it flew off. As he tried to watch it fly out of view, he stubbed his toe on a prickly-pear cactus.
Part 2
As he walked, the sun beat down on him with the intensity of a blast oven. He had left himself behind and started this journey on a whim. And while he liked to walk with his head up, looking forward to enjoy what lay ahead, the plethora of cacti in his path blocked his way, forcing him to look down to watch his step. Though he tried to be careful, a cactus needle would occasionally find its way into his sandled feet.
Walking slowly, he tried to make sense of the thoughts floating around in his head. But like a farmer walking with arms full of fruit, trying not to drop any but having one escape on nearly every step and two falling while trying to gather in the first, he couldn’t quite keep the thoughts together long enough to make any sense of them. Confusion reigned.
At the top of a small rise he stopped. Looking around, he saw nothing but cactus - no animals, no buildings, no humanity. Heat waves wafted up off of the ground like the steam rising from his morning cup of hot tea. His feet burning, he sat down on a large warm rock, laying his meager belongings in the sand near the rock. Crossing his right leg onto his left knee, he began to look at his foot. On his right foot he found one puncture wound; dried blood gathered around the hole, working as a dyke to keep fluids in. Doing the same with his left, he found three needles still working vainly to burrow further into his flesh. All were oozing, though the wound on his right foot had nearly stopped. Noticing an aloe vera plant poking out from beneath the rock he sat on, he broke off a piece of aloe and rubbed the exposed flesh of the cactus on his wounds.
When he finished dressing his wounds, he looked up and saw the first animal he had seen in many days. A dove had landed near him while he was tending the punctures in his feet and was watching him intently.
Gathering his belongings and swinging the knapsack over his shoulder, he stood up. His sudden movement startled the dove, which immediately flew off its perch, leaving three feathers behind. One fell near his right foot; the others out in front of him onto the path he was following. His feet, earlier screaming at him for his abuse of them now murmured softly, as though having been bathed in soothing oils. Feeling refreshed and somewhat energized, he began walking again, down the path that had led him this far.
As he walked, he noticed the dove again, perched on a small mesquite tree several yards ahead of him. A cool breeze caressed his face. His thoughts, once jumbled and difficult to connect, were now flowing together seamlessly. Everything finally made sense.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head to his left. Something had startled the dove again, and it flew off. As he tried to watch it fly out of view, he stubbed his toe on a prickly-pear cactus.
Part 2
