Evening

The air was still when I started out on my walk this evening, still in the early evening, motionless, like an animal curled in a darkened corner, wanting to be poked for signs of life. The final breath of daylight, one last breath, breathed an ash-black smudge on the pane of the southern sky, pensive with the possibility of rain. Not everything would be all right tomorrow. Dozens of bats scored the air from roadside to pasture and back again, as black as wires. The hand of time slips, after so long being steady, and leaves the gash most feared. Too late after all. That's all it takes. Halfway through, halfway home, the wind comes up. The fronds of the palm trees raise their arms. Something will happen now. Something always follows the wind.