The old man came

 The old man came from the field where he had been plowing and quietly sat upon the steps in the shade of the dogtrot, not a word was spoken. As for me, I knew that my time among them was drawing to a close. I reverently gathered my things and bid my own way out quietly, not disturbing the old man deep in thought of droughts and burning crops, down the old brick walk path and out of their lives, never to again see the old man, spent from fighting the unyielding fields.