Dark Clouds Ahead

Autumn airs make me curious. Make me want to follow the dry leaves through the city. I want to tumble around in the chilly air. No straight paths. No end ahead. I am comfortable not being in control, letting life happen as accidentally as possible.

I am no lamb innocently grazing about. More like a wolf prowling the radius of my domain. My heart had no malice when I grinned at the crisp fall wind. I wasn't condemning the dingy gloom of the grey skies. Much the contrary!

I was revelling in it, praying for the gusts to involve me in their shadow. An overcast sky is my haven in a world that is often too loud. It is the amulet I hold on to, my source of strength and luck. Is there anything as satisfying as living under the cover of darkness? Is there anything as freeing?

An ambulance siren disturbs my ruminations. A doctor's hand stretches towards me from the inside: an offer of help. They are more desperate to save me than I am to be saved. My rapid heartbeats could signal distress—or—excitement. What is the measure of safety?

Safety is sneaky; deceptive. It can emerge and escape in the poetry of ordinary life: I ate a hamburger. The cow died. There were no legal repercussions. What a peculiar world to be living in. What a peculiar life. I look forward to dark skies, to being swept away by a brisk blast.