|
|
On my walk this morning, ten dollars fell out of my pocket. Over there and over me there are the bluest, grey rainy day clouds that I've ever seen. And I smell the rain like anticipation. I look up and I challenge the morning to a race. And I must say, it is mine for the winning until I stop to smell the roses (rhododendrons?) and the storm laps me. I dodge it underneathe the leaves of the trees and laugh. This is a fun game we're playing, the morning and I. A dodgeball of sorts. And there has been something about these grey days lately that I have been finding particularly amusing. I pass the park on my walk and the wet grass on my feet feels like being five again. The bus stop that I'm walking to this morning is at the Windsor train station in the center of town. A train passes as I'm having my donut and I realize that it simply isn't built, as I am, to play these grade school games with the morning. But... I love trains. I watch this one, a freighter. Long. I wonder what could possibly be in all of those different cars. I wonder who could be in all of those different cars. But... I love trains. I remember catching the 6:26 to the City and the conductor would wavewavewave as he pulled into the station. And he would blow his whistle if you waved back. I always waved. On the bus this morning there was a woman wearing chunky black shorts boots, a long black skirt with a slit up the back, a wine coloured flowing blouse, with unruly brown hair, full lips coloured to match her blouse, and rings. Large beautiful silver rings with exquisite detail work. And I watched her hands in complete envy of the pages of her book as she turned them. And I watched one demolition drop of rain bumper car down the bus window as I vowed to myself that if she and I were both on the bus again tomorrow, I would speak to her. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
|
a Nifty design 
|