Slower Paths

A chill wind snatches his thoughts away. Arctic crocodiles slip up and down his spine. There was a time when deep winter walking was a brisk challenge, but that younger man is now, way ahead of him, from far away he can hear a faint whistling. Top of a small hill, he pauses, puff and spittle, some nasal dripping. Ear-bells singing - warning, his eyes slowly clearing. He thinks about rags on stilts, laughs at the thought that he can now really scare crows.