it's a good day to run.
the winds have stilled. the sky
is blue.
a chill in the air. on days like
this
i'd be at the park
by now,
running.
through the woods, along
the gravel path,
the mud, the wet trees
hanging over.
my lungs would burn,
as my legs churned around each
bend, up
each hill.
forward, ever forward around
the lake.
but times have changed, now
i bend over
for a stick
and walk it, but glad for even
that.
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