Strong wind carried scents of Queen Anne's Lace, layered over Rosemary. I was a boy in search, but not aware if I'd discover something worthy. I just knew the search was my quest.
Each day I asked myself why, but could not always put words behind it so why hung as a suspended moment that enticed the need to search further.
Wandering through forests not yet tamed by metal dozers of promise, a falling leaf, a rustled branch, sparkling water in a small pond I felt certain lay undiscovered for me to find. Why remained elusive, like a shadow seen at noon not at midnight. I knew it would reappear with the sun.
Silent examination, patience's companion, rode my shoulder when I left nature's protection as if I needed advice, or guidance when passing along trails trod by many people.
There was a deep meaninglessness to their haste, a confusion of chatter fired out like static lines of invisible whys. I was not sure they cared for answers, but rather sought definition for escape. They seemed to cling to the refuge their questions wove around them like a garden spider's five-foot web.
The search walked me through childhood, carried me into manhood until confronted with an answer I did not anticipate.
In war, I expended ammunition at an often-unseen enemy while we both responded to the call of life. Why never left me, never resolved, but the silence after conclusion rang with repercussions. The why of war bridges reality and passes into severed spirit. The unseen blood dripping is like the breeze bearing gifts of Queen Anne's Lace, and Rosemary, impossible to recapture and hold on the palm of peace, but balances on a blade of thorn.