Birds

Having broken free from the group huddled by the back door I headed
towards the river. The snow was piled high in drifts and made running
difficult. I turned and saw the other runners strung out behind me.
Dressed only in thin singlets and black shorts we were dressed to move
or freeze.
Bull caught up with me. He had ran madly to catch up and then ran pass
me. He past ahead jeering me to run faster. I ignored him and ran
steadily toward the small bridge.
At the bridge Bull marked time, making military sounds. I ignored him
and past over the bridge into the field with uncleared mounds of
snow.
"Come on Bird, get those knees up."
Bull was showing off. He would soon run out of steam. But I would pace
myself so that I could do a full circuit of the house and its
grounds.
Sunday afternoon.The snow had stopped falling. We were still isolated
from the roads and the surrounding countryside. Earlier I had spent
much of the morning clearing the drive in the company of thirty boys.
But over lunch the snow had come again. Only a small back road could be
kept open. The drive with the big playing fields was more exposed and
drifts had settled again.
The runners thinned out behind me. I kept up a steady pace and soon
past the old stone barn that the farmer was converting to a house. The
scaffolding and stacks of bricks were laden with snow. The sun, weak
and pale tried to brighten up the white landscape. But the bleakness
won out against the suns attempt.
I turned after a quarter an hour of running and could see no one
behind me. Even Bull had disappeared from view. Then I noticed the
crows. I noticed the pigeons and robins foraging for something from the
cold landscape. The snow came again. I noticed in the thin swirling
snow that blew in little storms the berry bushes and the green of the
holly.
I crossed another small bridge and was away from the house. Now I
could see only the swirling snow and only hear the birds. The birds did
not seem by their noise to be affected by the weather. I ran down by
the side of fields and felt good in the coldness and the
whiteness.
Ahead of me I saw a bright object lying discarded by a ditch. I
stopped and picked it up. It was a book. A book of birds. For a moment
I stopped and looked through the pages. I saw a picture of a crow and a
raven. And then again I heard the sounds of the birds across the bleak
landscape. The sounds of the birds; ignoring the cold. Making sounds
that to me sounded no different from those that they made in
summer.
I took the book and headed for the house. And headed back to being
told what to do. To complete the sentence. To be good.