Winter

With the cold air outside,

listening to George Winston,

after a day of talking with fearful grieving parents,

I think about our shoes,

As we ran on the winter snow covered streets.

Our breath creating fog around our faces,

Glasses fogging up and freezing,

needing to be taken off and pocketed,

to defrost, before being put back on.

Our footprints the only marking of our passage,

until they filled with snow.

Peter’s beard freezing with ice.

Fred entertaining with a long story about…

something.

Stories told, stories embellished,

And one of us always chasing that younger version of his former runner self,

that fleet high school athlete,

left in the long ago past,

on some race track somewhere.

Running,

we solved the problems of the world on those long runs,

many times over.

Now older,

things have changed.

Time has moved the pieces on the chessboard around,

moving people in time and place.

Yet,

On days like tonight I see us all rounding that final corner.

Each eying each other,

who will break for the end of the street first,

who has been saving some in reserve.

All those quarter mile dashes,

chasing hats or bouncing pony tails.

Tonight, however, I will stay at my steady pace,

And prepare to take the dog for a walk.

I’ll look at the stars,

and give thanks,

Thanks to have answered some of life’s mysteries.

In the company of other runners.

leavingleavesineaves