Walking the beat

Just in now from trudging the pavements of Riverton, slipping Green flyers into mailbox-slots. Many a hilly hill I climbed and many a slope I descended in pursuit of the gaping mail-maw. It was a lovely evening and not one dog heralded my approach, nor cat scatter at my footfall. No humans were about either, all inside watching the telly and the program about poverty, I suppose. The wading birds on the estuary piped their brackish tunes and fish plashed. I didn't hear any plashing but they must have, it was that sort of evening. I posted dozens upon dozens of Green messages, certain of the joy they'll bring the good folk of my town, come morning. I imagined their delight at having something worthwhile to pour over, over their granola. Some will want to vote immediately and will find the wait til Saturday hard to manage. Probably, they'll evangelize between now and then, turning whole neighbourhoods Green with desire to elect some worthwhile candidates of the earthy persuasion. Mr Kennedy, Green of Invercargill, will be the benefactor of my work tonight, as will the Party and her supporters, who'll likely top the 20% mark, as a result of this evening's soft-shoe shuffle.
It's been a good day, and now to bed.