The sky is wild with stars tonight, and the wind gusts and heaves, leaving a lone crab apple tree to throw its black silhouhette this way and that against the distant orange glow of city lights. As my face grows chill in the darkness of the lane, I dream that we're home and settling in for the night, a fire lit, tea and toast, and the push and pull of the day fading away. As I drag the bins down to the gate for the binmen tommorow, and open the door to the next ten tasks, the wild starry sky looks on.
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