I went for a run last night along fourth east like I always do if I decide not to go to the gym. I made it the mile and a half to Dick's before I realized I was going way too fast. So heck with exercise, I stopped, turned around, and satisfactorily walked the whole way home. This is what I saw:
- a river that runs nowhere
- and one that does
- fifteen lilac bushes
- weeds I'd love in my yard
- green snowballs
- the man in the moon, I've missed him
- half a pine tree
- a hayfield half mowed and almost gone
- a flying soccer ball and no player in sight
- a kissing gate
- a kitchen chair under a tree far from the house
- three hundred nine
- a person whose name I know and I still didn't say hello
- the last orchard
- Centerville's oldest resident
- twins in mourning, their backs turned to each other
- a tree house made without nails or boards
- an old swing set, the kind I love best
- the kind of wall you walk on
- sprinkler wet sidewalk, first I've seen this season
- a plastic castle, I was the lady fair in one once
- an enormous, stylish house dwarfing an old, ugly one that I like better
- a cat enjoying the witching hour
- and fifty three porch lights
Life is better than anyone expects. I've been looking at myself too much lately.
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