The Basket Weaver

The Basket Weaver.

The old man sits in the shade of the tree. The birds in the tree above him sing merrily. The sun is shining, and there is a pleasant breeze underneath the shade of the green tree.

The old man sits all day weaving his baskets from the heap of long grass that lies beside him. His hands work deftly as he weaves the strands of long grass into one another, to form the bowl of a basket. He alternates the patterns in the basket with strands of dark, and then light grass.

This forms beautiful patterns on the finished baskets. While he works he whistles one of his old favorite tunes. He is whistling happily as he works. He has a beautiful pitch, and he carries the tune well, because of years of practice. And still his hands are applying themselves to the weaving of the baskets.

While he sits in the shade of the tree and works, he is lost in his own thoughts. He thinks of his wife and children. They go to town each day to sell his wares. They have a stall outside the Zoo where they display and sell his baskets. He hopes they have a good day’s sales, seeing as it is Saturday today. They all earn enough to make a small living this way.

As he sits and thinks about all these things, he keeps on whistling his tune, and weaving his baskets. It is pleasant under the shade of the tree, as he sits and whistles and works. The birds alight in the tree’s branches to keep him company. After a while they fly off again, only to be replaced soon thereafter by other birds. The old man sits and works as the day draws on.

The End.