friends

no race so woods, coach road, playing fields - just like that. well, just like that compared to endless trudge up cascading clay. horseshoe print. pointing down. crazy. legs are dead. look for steps too soon, seem to have been moved a furlong further up the hill. at last, leave clay path for spiring, irregular steps. finally, spiring, irregular steps end. good idea. put hands on knees for a moment. shattered. take a tentative step. start walking. walk for good half minute. down now. galls up on slope. such peaceful creatures. invent belted galloway therapy in which the troubled wealthy come and drape themselves over their woolly backs as they munch. with the view, could be a winner. white-faced herefords watch as run down lane. out of curiosity see if bull is still in big field. no, pretty sure it wasn't meant to be there; reckon the tractor driver left the gate open. back through woods. phoebe. walk. seem to be between her and her owner. call comes up the path. phoebe follows warily. say to owner she seems wary of me. owner says she didn’t attack me then. say no i think she’s past that. sounds like i mean she’s old now. didn’t mean that. never mind, we’re nowhere near being even.