The grey days have set in, drizzling off and on and making the air feel like a giant vaporizer. It felt good, really good, to run yesterday morning, always mindful to make sure that I want to do it, not that I have to do it.
I didn't see anyone else on Langley's trail (she took up her post by the little window next to the front door. I could see her head in profile as I stretched and readied myself to jog down our street. I felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her behind in favor of my run, but told myself that she needed a recovery day from her two big walks from the weekend to rest her stiff legs.). The leaves were incredibly vibrant against the overcast sky and even over Bono I could tell just how quiet the world was about me. I got to the end of her trail and was getting ready to head north a bit more, when a movement above me caught my eye.
And then there they were, a massive, undulating flock of geese, high, high against the dull sky. So high that they almost looked like pinpricks. The vee-s never stopped moving, constantly changing back and forth. They were headed north when I stopped to watch them, taking out an ear bud so I could (hopefully) hear them, but then the flock made a sharp turn south when they were directly above me. Never missing a beat, the giant V continued to flow like a river down the sky towards Ft. Smith or maybe Little Rock or even further south. The formation was like a graceful ballet being performed across the heavens and I was lucky enough to get to see it, standing on the corner, breathing heavy, dressed in a bright red top and grey capris, an ear bud dangling over my shoulder.
It was as though the geese danced just for me. It was the most beautiful performance I had ever witnessed.
I was crossing Langley's Creek when I noticed him.
He was patiently waiting on his older brother and his girlfriend, who were in the field behind him, watching the sunset and taking selfies of themselves together, maybe for Instagram or Facebook. The boy was around the age of ten, maybe a little younger. There was something in the water that had his attention and he picked up a stick to prod it or to make it move, perhaps. The sun was going down behind him, throwing her last rays of daylight on the pasture and hay bales, turning them into gold.
Just a boy in a creek playing in the water while his big brother was watching the sun go down with his girlfriend in the pasture beyond. A story waiting to be told.