So To Bed

The needle stabs through the fabric with a quick, darting motion, like a kingfisher diving for fish through the surface of a pond. It is not fish that will be caught with this thread, though, but warmth. There is resistance as the thread snags on the rough material of the bed cover, but the weaver gives a forceful yank and it wins free, the stitch complete and joining its brethren in a strict, regimented line. Stitch follows stitch to form a strong defence against possible fraying.

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Seeds fly in a parabolic arc, landing along the ploughed trench in the rich, dark earth. The heat of the sun prompts drops of sweat to appear on the farmer’s forehead. He delves his hand deep into the pouch at his belt, thrusting his fingers between the tiny, round kernels of hope within. He scatters them behind his feet as he tramps across his land, willing their potential to bed in and produce the food that will sustain his family for the year to come.

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A child gives rapt attention to the story unfolding in the air around her. The sound of the words wraps her in comfort, as the events of the day fade in her memory. Her mother’s voice rises and falls with the flow and tension of the tale, leading at last to a happy conclusion that fills the room with peaceful contentment. The mother tucks the blanket securely round her daughter’s tired body and plants a kiss in her hair before stepping back to turn out the light.

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And so to bed.