Work Text:
Somewhere in the world, in the grass of a quiet forest, a gentle breeze stirred. The buzzing crickets eagerly called to its perked ears. The sweet smell of the night air flowed freely into its lungs. And from its bed it gazed skyward, past the stretching arms of the trees, to see the infinite expanse in its never-ending flow. For a time, it dreamt of the rivers that flowed through that darkness so far above, and the hardened vessels that sailed upon them like ancient, ghostly ships. It felt the ground beneath it – firm, yet embracing in its contours and bends. And most of all it felt the fullness of life.
Then, with a long stretch it reared itself high, pulling leaves along behind it like ribbons in a dance, and spread its wings to fly smoothly out towards the sea. All was quiet in the world, and those few creatures still lingering in the shrub soon new better than to forgo the warmth of their nests and dens. The breeze twirled and spun in its joy, giving no thought to the babbling streams and scurrying things it left in its wake. The open ocean awaited its return – and would not be disappointed this night.
Soon the forest faded into farmland. Little cottages dotted these fields, breathing their small signs of life and light as their inhabitants rested inside. Here a family shared a story by the hearth, and there a craftsman added the finishing touches on a wooden sculpture, and everywhere the breeze went it saw peace and quiet finding purchase in the world.
At last the gentle waves of the ocean appeared ahead. The tall mast of a ship towered high above like a vigilant guard. In a little harbour, the last tide slumped low, waiting patiently for its guest to arrive, and as the breeze waved goodbye to the land it swept low to touch the water. The two friends laughed merrily at their joining. Their bonds renewed at the stories they shared of their days, and they smiled at the ship that they passed by on their journey out towards the horizon. The ship was kissed, by the breeze and by the tide, and the small figure on its deck smiled too.
Davenport leaned back against the deck. The warmth of a fine glass of wine flowed through him. The buzzing crickets eagerly called to his perked ears. The sweet smell of the night air flowed freely into his lungs. And from his ship he gazed skyward, gazing into the infinite expanse, and felt content in the fullness of life.