By F. Ellsworth Lockwood
Crickets and frogs had resumed chirping. Joshua lay at the edge of the irrigation pond, and peered through stalks of tall, green wheat. In the darkness below, his mom and her crew had tired of their night's work; they leaned on shovels and wispered like grave robbers, though there was no one to overhear. None other than Josh, the boy who had hidden in the wheat field.
Crickets and frogs had resumed chirping. Joshua lay at the edge of the irrigation pond, and peered through stalks of tall, green wheat. In the darkness below, his mom and her crew had tired of their night's work; they leaned on shovels and wispered like grave robbers, though there was no one to overhear. None other than Josh, the boy who had hidden in the wheat field.
Josh's mom turned toward her pickup. She raised her shovel, poised to toss it into the back end. Her pickup. The former owner was dead now. Buried in the remote plot in the little known graveyard at the end of Old Cemetery Road, seven miles from town.
