There’s an old water pump out in the field, still in use in the warmer weather. In the winter it just stands guard and waits patiently. The sun was going down as I snapped the photo, and the last bits of light hit the field along with our silent sentinel, who stood in stalwart salute to his old friend.
|Waiting without complaint.|
Since he is unneeded just now, no one comes to visit him. Oh, to be useful again. Come the warmer weather, though, he will croak and squeak out water once more and feel helpful again. For now, he faces the west and longingly watches where the sun sets each night on the horizon, with its location changing just the tiniest bit each time. No one notices it but the old pump.
Soon the long arms of the high summer sun will stretch all the way across the sky, and there will be much work and celebrating. No one will notice the sun’s ever-so-slight decline after midsummer, not even the old pump. But that’s a long time in the future, and for now, it is enough to rest and wait and watch the light slowly grow.