the runner

you see the man
from up the street
in his shorts
running. you've
seen him for years
along the sides
of roads, through
the woods, the
park and around
the track at the
high school. running
with long loping
strides, his face
grimacing and red.
sometimes a new
wife beside him
or a dog.
through the seasons
you've seen him
fighting through
the snow and heat,
one foot after
the other, his arms
clanking awkwardly
at his side.
he stares as his watch,
always searching
for time. then
one day you see him
walking. slowly,
and easily, no
longer with a limp,
his face calm,
no longer straining
along the earth,
having finally
found his stride.