Our nettle stung legs steady and sure as a pulse

  • Monday, June 06, 2011
  • 0
Daughter of Elysium,
Touched with fire, to the portal,
Of thy radiant shrine, we come.
Your sweet magic frees all others,
Held in Custom's rigid rings.
All men on earth become brothers,
In the haven of your wings.
we run through poppy flecked Elysian fields following the course of the ancient Roman road to the top of the North Downs. startled deer startle us and pheasants flee our shotgun free hands. we are drunk on the sky and vibrato wind, our nettle stung legs steady and sure as a pulse. I love running with Jerry, i trust him, conversation is interesting, confessional and free, his route planning educational and unique. some of the trails we run are basically unused, broken and rough, some are animal trails with knee high grass and a profusion of wildflower and weed. on days like this i feel as if we own the earth.

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