Below early morning grey, footsteps echo through structures
as
reflections glisten and soft rain fills my face.

Alone but for my dog, the chorus of birds and the soft rustle of bare branches, shadows of trees portrayed on whitewashed walls
and the soft rumble of water trickles by in the kerbside.
I think of Dylan for a moment, seeing the darkened windows and the silence of the dumb found town.
Then, as I turn the corner
the beacon of home sits waiting at the bottom of the hill.