Pushing down the path. Running from the suddenly setting sun to the dark and the cool. A breeze rustles past me through the leaves and branches. The trees move and sway with my foot falls. A crescent slowly moves in the sky - with the turn of the earth - steady and thrumming as through a beat of wings thunders behind it. And the clouds drift in - as though pulled to the sliver of light - hovering nearby. A twig breaks and three dozen swallows launch into the dark from my left. I take another step.