the lights

line of cars still there. one set of roadworks and it’s gridlock. yet more sirens, the kind that used to be exclusive to new york. helicopter. make for alley. bloomin cold. bonfire smoke. surely can’t be the house that has bonfires, it’s not a lovely summer evening. pause on tiny bridge by mill to peer at yellowish statue... definitely someone in robes. vineyard soggy again. notice rises that don’t normally notice. tired. running is either mostly of the air or mostly of the ground. off the ground or of the ground. you’re in charge or it is. it is. on up the high track. slightly braver option as no break in climb. and is so often into a howling freezing wind. how effing ridiculous... the fake fire of orange lights is on and we’re still in daylight. nice pale blue haze around. blue sky, and real red fire as the sun dips behind thin cloud. they’d better have a good explanation. ground still in charge on top of downs. just feel too close to it. no cycling sign on gate by car park. new? makes no sense whatsoever. makes you want to not move aside when next a national trust jeep comes rattling along the pilgrims’ way. tripod on railway line. man searching through bag says hello. ask if he’s taking pictures, he is. not sure what to say next, just say right, which sounds a bit stern. should’ve asked if they’ll be on google earth or something, something other than just right. no earlier than usual but lighter than ever through bury hill. grandparents pushing pushchair smile and nod thanks as step into road. almost as rare as seeing the belisha beacon by the zebra crossing - not sure i’ve looked at it before. the lights... they are in the car park by the church. stupid number of belisha beacon-like lamps in a stupidly small space. cries out for some constructive vandalism. geese going mad in park. five fly off while another honks insanely. tired run remains grounded. pb though.