It was at the far end of the road before it began coming towards me. The wind was carrying it. No, not exactly carrying it but rolling it. It was rolling towards me, the reflections of the streetlights above causing it to shimmer like liquid. It was a large, clear plastic bag, that had been formed into a sausage shape by its ingestion of air. Carried by the wind’s gusty currents it rolled and tumbled its way along the road, sometimes being lifted up into the air before dropping down with a bounce. It was quite beautiful. Leaves followed in its wake, tossing and tumbling and scattering.
On my return journey I saw it again, still now it had become waterlogged, trapped into statis in a puddle and covered over with leaves, it’s adventure spent.