A Hobble

             There once was a man.  He was a stout and sturdy man.  He hobbled on occasion, but this was not incidental, as he hobbled for the chance that he might receive sympathetic glances from the townsfolk.  His sons did get frustrated at their father’s false feebleness, however they did not openly object and conceded to whispering their thoughts quietly.

            One day, the man was hobbling along a dirt path outside of town.  It was a winding path that crisscrossed up a steep hill and then circled around the crest like a lasso around a bull’s horn.  He usually took this route with his sons, but as they were engaged in their daily duties, he took it alone.  The man never forsook his hobble; for if he did, he would surely be spat upon by the people.  The Hollyhocks would not look down upon him, but the Mills and the Abbots would. 

            As he reached the summit of the knoll, he was greeted by one of the Mill boys who gave him an inquisitive look and then ran away.  The man smiled indolently and sat on a rock as he surveyed the scenery.  A little girl peaked up from behind a shrub and stared at the man.  She had bright blonde hair that was cut at the neck.  She was a Hollyhock.  Her tiny blue eyes shifted back and forth.  “Well what do we have here?”  The man said.   “Have you seen Donny?”  She said.  “Yea, he scurried off that way.”  The girl sighed and kicked a rock.  The rock twisted and turned in the wind and then lazily plopped down into a puddle.  The man rose from the rock where he sat and strolled languidly over to the puddle.  He stared at his morphing face in the rippling liquid.

            “I thought you hobbled,” the girl said.  The man who was lost in his image did not hear the girl.  She spoke up again.  “Sir, where is your limp?”  “I haven’t one.  Will you tell the others?”  The man realized his mistake, looked up nervously from the enchanting puddle, and stared at the small girl.  The girl sat down in the heather and pulled a peony out of the ground.  She stared at it for some time and then cocked her head up at the cloudless sky, and squinted her eyes at the sun.  “Exalt not thyself . . . lest thou fall . . . and bring dishonor upon thy soul . . . and so God discover thy secrets . . . and cast thee down in the midst of the congregation . . .  because thou camest not in truth to the fear of the Lord . . .  but thy heart is full of deceit.”

            The words came out of her mouth in short pauses, as she recalled each phrase.  “I will not be admonished by a child,” the man said.