I must have missed the bus 

The realisation was slow coming. About twenty minutes, perhaps. Not too odd during the day but when it is only the second bus of the day and that early you might have thought I would cotton on a bit quicker. But these rural routes and timings can be a little elastic. We do not have one of those realtime  bus  due signs either. Could only have missed by a couple of minutes. 
So I stood at the bus stop and have been watching , witnessing the morning unfold. It has not been cold. It has not been raining although there is dampness in the air, and there was little wind. Few cars passed. 

But morning has arrived while I have been here. 

I could have returned home: it would be fifty minutes until the next bus. But , well you never know it might just be very, very late. 

Dark when I arrived, quiet. We have had very strong winds the last few days, but now still, mostly. 

I was not waiting for the break of daylight otherwise, I may have been more attentive. But it crept up on me anyhow. 

Now I am waiting for the bus in the daylight – grey clouds banked across sky in sulky layers, letting through brightness where the edges allow it to seep through. It is colder now too.. Not just from my immobility but the wind has picked up and there is a cold edge to it. 

The accompaniment during my wait has been the loud  energetic calling from a bird high in the fir tree. Robin? This was not the first but certainly the loudest. This winter morning chorus was started by short tweets and chirups between unseen voices from a variety of garden trees with the single, let’s call it robin, riding over the top once the tweet chorus was established. The rooks set off in a single swoop over the trees and road. Together,  and returned to their trees punctuating the twiggy ends with thick black hyphens. They all returned and all, from what I could see, faced the same direction when settled. They did not do any of the manoeuvres silently. Raucous  on the rise with intermittent caws between the group in the swoop. 

Milkman passed. 

The rooks took flight again two groups swirling separately opposite directions, back to the trees and back to the single facing roost. The robin now quiet. A gust of wind is pushed through a space, whines and dies away. 

The number of passing cars increase, morning is definitely in motion. 

The next bus arrives – early. 

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