4.6 miles
ford overlook and back
45 degrees
Overcast, warm. I was overdressed in a short-sleeved shirt with a hooded pull-over. I tried a slightly new route today: south on the river road trail, up to Wabun park, over the ford bridge, along the river in st. paul, stopping at the ford overlook, then turning around. A harder run today. I felt tired and had to convince myself to keep running a few times. Recited the poem I re-memorized this morning as I ran — Still Life with Window and Fish/ Jorie Graham. Such an amazing poem!
10 Things
- a brown leaf whirling in the wind then startling me as it landed in front of me
- kids yelling on the playground, one voice sounded frantic at first, like the kid was hurt. As I listened longer, their voice sounded less pained and more playful
- a tall runner with long legs loping (with a long, bounding stride) — not graceful but awkward, gawky
- 2 (or was it 3?) big birds with wide wingspans riding the thermals near the overlook — almost floating, smooth, slow, silent
- reading the plaque describing the giant rusted paddle wheel on display at the overlook — from 1924, part of the hydroelectric power plant — the rust was deep red-brown and speckled with orange
- a skateboarder heading to the empty skate park
- crossing the ford bridge from west to east, noticing how steep and crumbling the slope at the edge of the bridge was — I wondered how soon this would need to be reinforced
- the river was a deep and dark blue with small waves and no shadows
- someone playing frisbee golf in wabun park — not seen, but heard: the clanging of the chain netting as it caught the frisbee
- running above on the paved trail, noticing a man walking a dog below, feeling tall and fast as I passed them
Here’s a poem I found the other day. I love the idea of writing a thank you poem to a poet. Maybe I’ll do one?
For Allen Ginsberg/ Dorothy Grossman
Among other things,
thanks for explaining
how the generous death
of old trees
forms
the red powdered floor
of the forest.