Evening ends, night begins…

Suburbs smelled like woodsmoke and rain this evening…the kind of rain that’s very near freezing, and seems to land a little heavier than normal rain. It came down sporadically enough to permit a nice lengthy jog, however, and the hour with which I decided to head out in my coat and shorts allowed me a very charming and intimate look at a period in the life of normal human beings that I frequently overlook– the turning of evening into night.

The skies were uninspiring; starless, with a mottled gray and orange cloud blanket tucked low; and the winds were spare. If people weren’t already nestled into their little boxes in front of their flickering TVs, they were pulling into their driveways as I skipped past on the sidewalk. They were quiet for the most part…beyond the sounds of car door chimes, and crinkling plastic bags in the dark.

The seasons roll on like an ore freighter; everyone grappling with the rotation of the planet in their own ways, usually with fear and unease. No more leaves on the trees. No more balm in the air. These last few weeks I could literally feel the earth spinning beneath my feet– that large rotating gear, shifting from one place and into another with a slow grind, and a reassuring click. Some things leave. Some things come. Some things remain.

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