It was a windy day. Cecilia, sitting on her beloved hill, breathed it in. The gently rolling slopes going down to the sea reminded her of branches on a Christmas tree, rolling down to the bottom. The smell of the fragrant grass went to her head like the whiskey John Dean, the town drunk, was intoxicated by. It was all hers.

"Little breezes dusk and shiver" was the only thing brought to her lips.

"Tennyson."  Came an unexpected voice.

"What would you expect from an old schoolmarm?" was her laughing reply was she faced the voice, expecting to see her brother. But instead of bright blue eyes very much like her own she found herself staring into the shining black eyes of her next-door neighbor.

"Mr. Meredith!" Her eyes flashed surprise, and his disappointment, "I am sorry, I thought you were my brother."

"Not that many people who could know Tennyson around here, I suppose." His black eyes reminded her of the glowing ashes in the grate after she put the fire out with water as they crinkled in amusement.

"Yes," His eyes held her attention like the crackling flames of her hearth, "I suppose not."

But the wind whistled with its call of promise and beauty out in the great world of sloping trees and the contact with his eyes seemed so less important than the great spirit of the wind.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a calm day now. The air hung over her like the wreaths at Christmas over the hearth. It was almost so calming as to be depressing.

"A dead day" she muttered, clutching her arms around her knees.

"No poetry this time?" the now familiar voice asked as it came nearer.

"Nothing to describe this kind of monotonous day." She almost grumbled.

"Monotony doesn't sit well with you, I see." He said as he sat down.

"No, it doesn't. I find that there doesn't seem to be a point in living when one has the hindrance of monotony."

"That is one way to look at it I suppose, but I think that we only make our monotony. If you think of how important the little things you do for people are important you will be saved that feeling." He said wisely. She had just begun to notice how wise he was.

"Well," she said in her childishly flippant way, "you're a Divinity Student, so you'd know. Wouldn't you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you have a gift from God. And God knows."

He smiled at her then…She really was wise. She just didn't know it.

"You are wise to know that." He said admiringly.

"Thank you." She said, hoping he didn't not see her blush.

Thank you for thinking I'm wise. For making me feel justified.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a cloudy day. It was puffy and white and horrible because she could not see the bluebirds reflected in the sky. She needed her bluebirds now.

"I fear; the more is my unrest"

"Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet."

"How do you always know to come right when I recited something? And you always know what it is!"

"Instinct. And plenty of reading time." A good-natured chuckle that was almost as bitter as crab apples.

"Why is that?" Appealing eyes. Concern. Empathy. All drowned him.

"Because I find books are better than people on some points, I suppose."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you think that."

"Don't be." An acidic smile.

"Than you shouldn't be." A base pair of appealing eyes that neutralized the compound.

"You think I'm sorry for that?"

"You are."

"Yes," He looked out at the water, "I suppose I am."

He is sad, she thought. He has seen too much sorrow. I wish I could put a smile back on his face.

And she wondered why she thought that.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N For Ruby cause she told me to do it. Hehe! I will update when I can, but I guess this can stand as a one-shot.

Please let me know what you think!