Night

Running after dark on the first really chilly night of the fall. The first night I've worn two layers on top. Something about the coolness puts an extra spring in the middle miles. Glancing up at that nearly full, perfectly luminous moon doesn't hurt either.

I pass an old man out for a late night walk on the edge of town. He smiles and says, "What a night, eh?" "Indeed, look at that moon." Words of recognition in passing. At the nursing home I run by the embers of a small fire, table with roasting forks, the smell of hot dogs still in the air from a weiner roast. Another mile further and the first smell of woodsmoke of the season. Comforting. Warmed up by mile five, but fingers cold regardless. Home to warmth, high from the night.