' As I walked out...' 100 word prose-poem

Already the midsummer sun shimmers along the dusty track, my shadow a slender man in faded overalls and a wide-brimmed hat.

I ponder Steinbeck, Laurie Lee and Edward Thomas, for whom all roads led inevitably to France. And Frost, who couldn't persuade him to leave for America, his own two roads in a yellow wood, long he stood...

      The choices we make

       the shape of our walking

       and the roads we take

The day is too hot - my old dog pants beside me, the young one lolloping heedlessly ahead - until relief turns us down the dapple-cool seaward road home