So I went to the park with some bread for the birds. I wore my green hat, brought the umbrella. But the clouds were pink and grey: shadows of sunset, flickering on the lake. 4 o'clock. No sign of rain for the moment. The wind was gusty, blew right through me. it's winter now. I stood on the bridge for a long time.
Planes took off. Landed. A train crawled past. Cars on the motorway. I didn't hear.
Because I was watching the Holy Spirit move on the water, splaying out with each gust, rocking the scores of seagulls and moorhens, as they floated along, trying to sleep. They were my paper lantern prayers, black and white, bobbing.
I stood on the bridge for a long time: my altar.
And then I walked home for tea. Almost lost my hat.