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Timothy Hawkes

The Silent Archer

Sometime during the night the frogs stop singing in the rice fields. The light grows, and the morning sun touches red on the summit of Mount Fuji. Except for the call of birds, all is quiet, until a single knock echoes from somewhere inside the grounds of a Shinto shrine. After a pause, the same sound comes again, followed by silence, and then a third time. 

Walking softly between the stone lanterns, I discover the source: a lone monk with a wooden bow. With long practiced skill, he draws an arrow from its quiver, nocks it to the string, pulls back, and then releases. The arrow arcs briefly until it smacks into the center of a wooden target some twenty yards distant. The monk reacts neither to the shot nor to me; he just nocks another arrow. 

morning prayers
smoke from an incense stick
curls skyward

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About the Author

Timothy Hawkes—jack-of-all-trades, food snob, known to fish—likes chocolate and travel and spending time outdoors.