Today's kind of true short daily run
The rain has rained in, like a grey block building on long slow rollers, on its muddy way to the coast. Tense heartbeats with confused longing, as always, along the graveyard. You should strive to make better choices, they say.
At the bend, where the road goes country, the cow has still not appeared since that uncommonly fateful day: me without a camera. It was right there, like a bubble in a level on a hill between two copse of trees. Today isn't level anyway. It wasn't then, either.
Looping home, I can see the grey has become us. We're fine. There's been so much sunshine and it's getting late into the autumn.