Warmth pumps through my body
From my heart, to my legs, to my cheeks
As I go up and over
The snow-capped hill
Making puffs of smoke
In the morning chill.
I jog through the park, the sidewalk,
Along the shore of the lake
Looping back and forth
Across the streets and the parking lot,
Passing the same things, every day.
There'll be flowers,
Or lawnmowers
Or fall leaves, or other joggers like me
There'll be cars,
Maybe a road repair
Or a eerie hush as folks try to sleep
Nothing noteworthy, nothing that's changed
It's the same city, and I'm running back
To the same place
But the wind is rushing past
The sun that was in front, is now behind
And all that's left
Is the sound of my breath
The pumping in my chest
The ache in my feet
And the promise of a good, long rest at the end
But not now
Not for one more lap.
This is all I need.
YOU ARE READING
Cement City
PoetryHow to capture it all? I was no photographer My paint brushes, I have retired And words simply do not belong On a cover The same way they fit In my mouth, or march along the surface Of these pages. How to capture it all? The sounds, the smells, the...
