Throw back the covers. The house, completely silent.
Inside five minutes, I'm hitting the road.
Run. Breath smoking in the early morning cold.
Sometimes rain, soaking my hair. The estate perfectly quiet.
Keep going, past cars and drives and neatly clipped lawns
until I've left the town behind and fields begin.
Stone walls, dripping trees.
Slate water babbling in the bowl of the reservoir.
Heart pounding, breath smoking.
Put my hands on the mossy walls and lap in all that water.
All that rain...
The grey water constantly moving, rippling,
swerving to the walls of the reservoir.
|Photo: Su Joy|