Cobblestones

On a night when the leaves chase each other across the cobblestones and the North wind whispers of the coming cold, I make my way amongst the puddles of light cast off by the evenly spaced street lamps, softly humming an old Jackson Browne tune I dig my hands deeper into my pockets. It isn’t far now I can see the twinkling of lights through the darkness and the muted symphony of voices intermittently rises above the creaks and groans of the bare trees swaying above me before hurrying away  to chase the wind…