going for a run

you liken running
to writing.
how the first few
laps, or mile
warms you up,
gets the coughs
out of your system,
then you begin to
fly. the legs and
arms churning easily
as you find your
stride. you put
the awkward
self conscious
lines behind you.
the metaphors
that don't work.
the energy is heightened
as you speed along
without a thought
letting your
fingers move
briskly across
the keyboard. you
could run or
write this way
for hours.
there is no finish
line, no crowd
cheering you on.
it's just you on
a cold November morning
running through
the park.