The world was playing opposites

I left when the grass was crackling underfoot.
Backs of our legs covered in scratches, our feet pink with dust,
you had just retreated inside like the dog to pant in a cool damp corner.

I left malignant.

I return with dust now cloying at my wheels.
Wind is scuffling your hair, and billowing out your shirt,
and you and the dog run in circles barking in the rain.

I return benign.

Renewed
Ready.