Grey ranks of stormcloud loom on the horizon My feet fall into a now-familiar rhythm My breath ebbs and flows, patient as the tide My heart beats fast but quietly -- doing as it always could had I only known With three and a half miles behind me and three and a half to go, I laugh as I realize I am not tired yet Thunder crackles and fine drops start to soften the soil underfoot The rain is nourishing and cool I am healed, growing, and running forward-- Summer 2006
Running under the stars at night, I am accompanied by the rhythm of my footfalls and the wordless, patient whisper of my breath Sprinklers hiss moistly, invisibly, preparing the ground for the onset of desert morning A teenage couple lingers in the cone of a street light, embracing at the curb, the car door standing open Their date is over but their evening is not -- not just yet A face gritty with razor stubble flares into existence, glowing dull red from a cigarette lighter, then disappears a second later into the blank darkness, leaving only a bobbing red dot which soon also fades from sight The Orionid meteor shower has returned: fifteen times the earth has swung imperturbably around to trouble this patch of sky, fifteen years since I last wrote of it And what? I am still wakeful, and another kiss lingers between my lips I am much stronger now, somewhat wiser, and a little grey -- once again starting over, and still taken by surprise by the reliable inconstancy of the heavens Now I turn to run directly into it, finally doubting no more, permitting the radiance to pierce me straight through-- Fall 2006, 12:26 a.m.
I open my eyes and raise my head A thousand souls stand gathered for the start -- chilly fellow runners, or a line of my ancestors quietly watching me take my turn The road twists down and out of sight The sun rises over the mountains Footfalls land lightly under me Atmosphere eddies in my lungs Blood runs richly through my veins Landscapes move gently by Death was yesterday; today is life I am glad I came here-- December 2, 2007
Accepting the baton from my teammate, running forward on foot under the stars, under a million distant suns, my headlamp penciling dustily off into the black void -- my efforts, my ancestors' hopes, my descendants' pride, all concentrate together here in this present, this one shining, pulsing moment-- February 29, 2008
Silhouetted stark against grey sky, rich dark brown in the wet fog, bony hands of sapling branches grasping empty -- each gnarled knuckle glittering with a pendulous raindrop, jewels dangling clear on every thin joint -- waiting for spring, yet patiently, and not without reward-- January 2012