Dispatches to friends

Evening commute (i)

A sunset. The sky is blue at the top going onto bright orange. There are no details on the ground. We can only see the outline of trees, telephone lines, and a building

The sky is blue. My bicycle light shines bright but illuminates nothing. I swerve out of the industrial estate and hop onto the quiet lanes hidden between major road arteries.

The world falls quiet. Blue fades to pink at the edge of the world.

I stop to observe a small herd of deer eat the fresh green shoots of a field. The distance between us is enough that they do not care about me. I linger alone on the path, witnessing the sky turn orange behind the deer, their fur glowing in the darkening day.

I pedal on, past a jumble of cars grounded to a halt at a small junction, too many of them trying to find a way out with no backing space available. I weave my way through effortlessly.

The crows and jackdaws that adorn the sky above the farm in the morning have disappeared. The chickens don't peep a sound in the stillness of twilight.

I cycle on. Through the village and its two pubs. Through the road works and the newly resurfaced train tracks, my wheels gliding instead of stuttering on the jagged edges of the tracks.

A fat white cat stands on the bridge over the river. I pull on the brakes and go to meet them. They are not interested in me. I watch them sniff at the air, the gurgle of the river drowning the distant drone of traffic.

I return to the saddle and enter the cycle path. Bats flits every which way, their flight seemingly chaotic and desperate. I wonder again at why they are out this early in the year. The weather is warm but there is no guarantee it is going to stay that way just yet.

They flicker and whizz. In and out of my vision, my eyes trail their frantic flights. One bat stays by my side, sailing in front of me, following the same path as my wheels. Companions for a while, my heart swells at riding together, them in the air, me on the asphalt. They loop back to me on occasion as if checking I was still here. My eyes stay wide open, daring me to trust they will not collide with my body. They never do.

I leave the cycle path and the dancing bats, merging back into the flow of main arteries. I plug in music in my ears and dance on the bike as cars roll by me almost a little too close.

The colours have seeped out of the world by the time I reach home. The lightness of the heavens has turned dark blue, ephemeral twirling trails of ink in water. A few stars glow bright, alone and unidentifiable to my eyes. Still, I nod in their direction, an acknowledgement to their presence, to their wonder, before I slide into the shelter of home.

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