Welling up with the thought

Every Wednesday night I walk across a massive black field from where I work to where I live. The field is surrounded by sycamore and horse chestnut trees which means that the only light comes from the distant fog-diffused arc lamps around my hall. It's cold by this time, the sun went down hours ago and so the wind silently blowing across the land is not a warm one.
As I walked tonight my eyes welled up. I don't know what for, I don't know why I was tearing up, but at the time it felt right; I felt suffused with emotion. Perhaps it was my exhaustion speaking to me, perhaps it was my loneliness, perhaps it was my heart.

I crossed the field and as I stepped out from the trees into the light, I raised my arm and brushed away the tears...