On the Breeze
When I walk on the Naugatuck Valley River Trail, I prefer to walk alone— the steady rhythm of my feet hitting pavement becomes a kind of mantra. Despite that, I do hear voices. In the breezes that sweep along the water, I hear my father’s words, “The wind clears out the cobwebs.” It does for me. Of course, there are other people on the trail. They pass coming and going within a few feet of me. On the breeze to the distress of my nose, I smell the scent of dryer sheets and the