Poem: Runners Steps

Sunday 2 March 2014 by

I went for a run yesterday morning on my own. I usually run in company, so all of a sudden I realised I could pay attention to what was going on around me. It was just gone 7am and there was no one else on the road, and the sun was starting to creep far enough up that it was over the hedgerows. And I suddenly felt inspired. So I wrote a poem…

Tree, Frost, Morning, Running, Daffodils
Runners Steps

The fields lie under a blanket of frost
a drape of mist.
They take a deep breath as the sun basks them in gold
Suddenly alive again.

I blunder past with my uneven steps,
One TWO three four,
And the hedgerows grow from black-green
to golden-green,
One two THREE four,
And the woodpecker rat-tats his tune,
onetwothreefour,
that echoes across the fields
the trees
the abandoned road.

There are no deer this morning,
just the bobbing bushes of squirrel tails
scolding my passing.
ONE two three four.

My breath is too human
too loud
for the morning.
A heavy puff out
A short sharp intake.

I pass a fellow runner
and we share a brief smile of comradeship.
But we know that there is nothing more than that –
the morning is each our own.
One two three FOUR.

The sun is brilliant against me,
fierce and full of fractured light
as it skips over the frosted fields.

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