I am out on the road now making my way past dark houses with the odd glowing rectangle of luminosity that tells me people aren't home. It's drizzling harder now and my face is damp and my hair - all short inch of it - is taking on a slick wetness that you only get when you're out in the rain. The wetness of the shower is so different. And a touch warmer.
It's a mill town so I can see the endless rising of the mill ahead of me as I make my way down Adelaide street. Smoke always seems so lazy in the rain.
I've walked (jogged really) on at this point and the rain has cleared over again as it continues to go, and come, as it has all night. I've run on and am at a good trot and can feel my calves begin to let me know that too much time (and not enough distance) has passed since their last outing. To my left a shadowy church is being passed and I can smell woodsmoke in the air and hear my feet clopping on the road as I make my down its centre.
Another corner turned and I am moving back homewards bound (with apologies to Simon and Garfunkel). In the distance (but not too far away) I can hear the forlorn mooing of some cow. It probably has its butt directly pointing towards the now freshly increasing rain. A guy knows how it feels.
No comments:
Post a Comment