A short jaunt around the neighborhood seemed a good idea. On the drive home, the sun had shone itself. But that was just a tease. By running time, clouds had invaded and the wind picked up a brisker pace than these bare feet.
Leaves have started to blanket Akron in colorful death. Rather than warming those it touches, this blanket chills. Hands tucked inside long sleeves. A head that could use a hat. The cold ground keeps the soles from warming.
Acorns litter the sidewalk. Deft placement vs. painful steps, the contest is a draw. The street circling the park feels warmer and smoother.
Forget the downhill of the outbound portion of the run. It is unnoticeable until the uphill of the return. Finally the feet feel warm. Just in time for home.
3 comments:
A prose poem! Congrats! You're a poet and didn't know it! :)
Not related to this post, but here you go:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=930AihL3Q90
I hate to sound dorky, but I enjoy your writing style!
Post a Comment