fills up, sets up, dresses up, laces up, steps out
into the empty streets
stalked by pale morning cats,
past “why do I do this?”,
through “how can I do this?”
to the misty river’s edge
where single sculls dip and glide.
Along the silent white ribbon
drifts of autumn leaves return to the trees of spring,
reluctant legs pass
dogs walk women walk men walk dogs
and jog the first bridge into view,
beams grey with waiting
for the sun.
Mind numb now with
pacing, pushing, passing, panting
to fellow footmen of the dawn,
fading into an unequilibrium
of stubbornness and pain
until the next bridge girds itself …
The glare and warm of sunlight still young as the day.
largesse of quickening light!
And so with the sun
in easy homeward strides.
I wrote this poem while I was running one morning. I have a standard circuit that takes me up one side of the Whanganui River, across the rail bridge and back down the other side to the Dublin Street bridge for the return journey.
The accompanying photographs are some of the many I’ve taken along that route over the last couple of years.