The night does something to me. Rising from bed, my eyes are heavy and I feel a comfortable blanket of exhaustion draped across my shoulders. This is part of the ritual. It is rare, but well loved.
My little leather mat unrolls on the bed and I sprinkle on some tobacco. Just a tad wet. I dress in the day's clothes, tie boots, button coat. For the first time since the cold rolled in, I grab the scarf Shannen made in the winter before last. Tobacco has dried perfectly it seems, so I pack my pipe. Pockets checked for lighter, tamper, cleaner.
Out the back door, over leaves, onto the street. Pipe is lit and I begin to walk in no particular direction. The cold isn't quite so gripping as anticipated, though I'm still glad to have taken along my scarf. I'll need gloves soon. The pipe is exceptional.
All the neighborhood is dead asleep. Just a few of the other late-night beasts dancing through leaves, only them and the atmosphere. My boots make no sound on the ground. Streetlights throw my shadow on the street, drifting slowly from one side to the other. In this dim silhouette I can see my smoke hang momentarily by my side before departing into the ether.
Shy breeze, a chill passes through me. Feels like I'm asleep. Stars are bright above and I pull my coat a little closer.
Walk here, walk there. Tend pipe. Go home. A simple procedure, but still special.
My little leather mat unrolls on the bed and I sprinkle on some tobacco. Just a tad wet. I dress in the day's clothes, tie boots, button coat. For the first time since the cold rolled in, I grab the scarf Shannen made in the winter before last. Tobacco has dried perfectly it seems, so I pack my pipe. Pockets checked for lighter, tamper, cleaner.
Out the back door, over leaves, onto the street. Pipe is lit and I begin to walk in no particular direction. The cold isn't quite so gripping as anticipated, though I'm still glad to have taken along my scarf. I'll need gloves soon. The pipe is exceptional.
All the neighborhood is dead asleep. Just a few of the other late-night beasts dancing through leaves, only them and the atmosphere. My boots make no sound on the ground. Streetlights throw my shadow on the street, drifting slowly from one side to the other. In this dim silhouette I can see my smoke hang momentarily by my side before departing into the ether.
Shy breeze, a chill passes through me. Feels like I'm asleep. Stars are bright above and I pull my coat a little closer.
Walk here, walk there. Tend pipe. Go home. A simple procedure, but still special.
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