A Ten-Minute Mile


The sun crawls,
in its own gracious time,
 over the top of the neighbor’s roof,
the woman positions her chair
to catch the light ,
sighs as the warmth fills stiff bones
 with a dream of running
a ten-minute mile along the shore,
looking for a lost  brother sweating sunburn,
looking for a lover’s embrace sweating kisses ,
or chasing her children’s childhood,
hot on the trail of  a chipmunk
hiding  along a backwater stream.
She races  in search of  secrets,
 grabbing bits and pieces of knowledge
damp with the smell of old books,
yet devoid of the scent of wisdom,
  compassion biting at her heels
   devouring a marathon of caring,
 she chews and swallows too fast,
 uphill waves of broken bodies begging
 for a sip of her soul,
sweating profusely but never detoxifying,
purification just out of reach
of a ten-minute mile.
The dream fades to slow motion,
the sun’s warm embrace beckons and pulls
her up and away from her chair, 
 not to run a ten-minute mile,
but to walk a well-worn path
to a frozen lake nearby,
where she forgets the  fast-paced dream
 in the long slant of the sun,
snaking through the naked  trees,
and  for a long time she  just stares
at a single blue heron
walking  on water.


©WabiSabi 2013

For Poets United ‘Pantry’

D’Verse ‘Pub’