Afternoon sun streaks coolly through spartan branches and falls onto
gold and tan wind-tossed leaves.
Martin sits in his sweaty jogging gear resting his back against the
old grit bin and moving his arms and head
to ward off the cramp. The gravel path at his feet
follows the course of an abandoned rail line, now a popular cycle and walkway. Its deep cuttings and arced route are softened
by trees, brambles and grasses fighting for life along its course. Martin’s
gaze is drawn back towards the train-sized mouth of the old stone bridge. Sunlight glints off its moist façade and casts
a deep shadow under its arch. The
heads and shoulders of a few cows plod over its arched crest and he guesses their
movement was what drew his attention. He
relaxes and momentarily forgets his breathlessness as he observes their calm
passage.
The last cow stops briefly in the middle of the bridge to
peer over the edge and Martin’s gaze falls to notice a silvered figure standing
under the arch, shielded in the deep shade. A trick of light highlights long hair and
her silken dress clings and drifts in a breeze that Martin can not feel from
where he sits. The girl is beautiful, alluring,
the dress totally inappropriate for the cool day, and while she is illuminated in
the shade of the bridge her brightness is not from the sun. Beguiled, Martin rises and makes his
way towards her entreaty, she opens her arms, an irresistible appeal to his well
worn spirit.
~~~~~~~~~
(Then I found a photo of a cow on a sunny day on a bridge and changed the rail way to a canal and the season to early spring)
The early springtime sun streaks coolly through newly green
branches and falls onto grasses and budding wildflowers.
Martin sits slumped in his sweaty running kit resting his
back against the splintered old lock gate while moving his arms and head to
relieve the cramp. His favourite jogging
route follows the course of a redundant tow path, now a popular cycle and walkway. Its deep cuttings and banked route are softened
by trees, brambles and grasses all growing lushly along its course. Martin’s
gaze is caught and drawn towards the wide mouth of the old stone bridge nearby. Sunlight glints off its key-stoned façade and
contrasts the deep shadows under the arch.
The heads and shoulders of a few cows plod over its crest of the bridge and
he guesses their movement was what drew his attention. He relaxes and momentarily forgets his
breathlessness as he observes their calm passage.
The last cow stops briefly just past the middle to peer over
the edge and Martin’s gaze falls to notice a silvered figure standing under the
arch, shielded in the deep shade. A beam
of light highlights long hair and her silken dress clings and drifts in a
breeze that Martin can not feel from where he sits. The girl is beautiful, alluring, the gossamer
cloth totally inappropriate for the cool day, she is enticingly illuminated but
her brightness is not from the sun.
Beguiled, Martin rises and makes his way over, obeying her entreaty. She opens her arms, an irresistible appeal to
his well worn spirit.
