3.5 miles
trestle turn around
63 degrees
Felt good today. Ran a little faster, felt a little freer. Even though the weather is great, it’s Sunday, and it’s almost noon, the paths weren’t that crowded. Was it because it’s memorial day weekend? Whatever the reason, I appreciate not having to dodge bikers or groups of walkers.
10 Things
- sea
- stacked
- stink
- staring
- shadows
- craters
- purple
- soft
- sitting
- saw
Running through the tunnel of trees above the floodplain forest, a sea of green. No sky or river or solid ground.
4 stones stacked on the ancient boulder.
Above the rowing club, a slight stink from the sewers — sweet and sour.
Running up the hill, past the old stone steps, 2 walkers and a dog about to descend the old stone steps. I couldn’t see their faces, but I felt like they were staring at me.
At the start of my run, bird shadows: a big one swopping, several smaller ones shooting across the street like bullets.
The craters in the patched crack near the trestle seem to be growing deeper.
Running past a tree, a flash of purple in the otherwise green leaves. Was that a trick of the light?
The soft sound of water falling or wind gently rustling the leaves near the ravine.
I was planning to stop at the sliding bench, but 2 people were already sitting there. Before I began running, I heard a woman’s voice — you did it! Then the sound of a buzzing saw, then good job! Her tone sounded like she was praising a little kid. I wondered if that were true and how old the kid was that she was teaching to use a power saw — not in judgment, in wonder.
indigo
I have returned to my color poems. Before I ran, I was thinking about indigo again. During the run, an idea popped in my head, so just past the trestle I stopped to record it:
Thinking about indigo and idea of wanting this time, at night, that is dark without stars. Which is referencing how, when I lose all of my cone cells, there may never be true dark. And then thinking also about how true dark is not possible (in the city) because of light pollution. The idea that indigo is something both wished for and feared.
another grass line
It will soon be cold here,
and dark here;
the grass will lie flat
to search for its spring head.
(Love in the Weather’s Bells/ Jay Wright)