woodsmoke congeals in the cold air

  • Wednesday, February 23, 2011
  • 0
on some clear days a peace settles upon the land at sunset and you feel as if you are running with and merged with something profound. sounds carry on the still air, birdsong, distant voices and resonant feet. in the valleys woodsmoke congeals in the cold air and horses wear blankets. i run west again, down the sharp drop to the pond and past the field. at the bottom i turn back on myself and head east along the stream. tonight my body is a minimalist runners dream, my feet are so light they seem to just kiss the earth and i am refreshed by the musical pitch of water flowing over rocks. at these moments running is not just a dance, it is poetry too and as i run my mind is empty, clear and meditative.

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