evening peace

The sky was darkening as I set out, with the sky dramatically lit with dark clouds and golden highlights. Gormley is quiet at 9 on a Friday night. A rabbit froze on a lawn, the Great Blue Heron took to flight, various other birds made their way home, the frogs began their evening lullaby. A few notes snuck through a window from someone practising violin. My shoelaces tipped while I enjoyed the upbeat music playing on the iPod. As I crossed the train tracks a slight breeze tumbled down them, rattling the sign as if in a ghost town. The scent of flowers and freshly mown grass accompanied the breeze. As I passed home, the dog joined along, her nails clicking eagerly ahead of me. The wind found on higher altitudes caused my shadow to look more like Scarecrow than a blackened reflection of myself. The point of return had arrived, the sky dark and blue above the orange glow of downtown Toronto. The front door had been left ajar, welcoming both me and the mosquitoes home. It was quiet, peaceful, a good place to return to. There is no place like home.