Quiet

Soft damp bed of green
Soaking up step-sounds
Mushed dust of old mountains
Crackles gently underfoot

Deep rusted red herald
A hoary halo overlooks comers, goers
In the soaked gray air it's deepened
I give a salute of auburn curls, underby

Alone and surrounded
Echoing, chirping, rustling life abounds
Slithers, flutters, hops, buzzes, whispers
In a language too slow for me to catch

A lightness fills me
Stands me up, lifts me along
As my legs stretch around solitary bends
And a fleeting connectedness washes through

The curves create friction
The inclines spark surges
The resistance replied with a sweaty push
Hot breath and hammer-heart

Soft-tails alight
Retreating to their canopy
Human ruin a muted presence at the fringe
All come and go in the closest thing to peace.

Labels: Environment, Poems, Running