I'd been thinking of this amble as I sat in meetings and on Metro. Thought of it at home when I pulled on a t-shirt and tennis shoes and left the house in a hurry, before I found something else I had to do.
The real stroll was even better than the imagined one, as I lost myself in the cadence of the steps and the sounds of day's end: birds roosting, balls bouncing, radio rap from a passing car.
Self-propulsion is marvelous any time of year. But on a fine May evening it's utterly divine.