The Heineken bottle glows in the morning sun as if lit from within. A shade darker than the spring green sprouting around it.
The last time I walked this path I saw the same bottle and left it there. Now, washed clean from last nights rain it winks at me,
so I pick it up.
I put the bottle in the small bag hanging from my shoulder. It’s a snug fit and the top of it sticks out.
As I walk, the bag with the bottle in it bumps off my hip. With each step, the stirred air catches in the lip of the bottle and who-whos, like a whispering owl.
A song for my morning walk.
