Sunday Morning Run ( moments of solace)

Stepping off the curb, running round the bend, toes touching, heels suspended. Dreams so laden with sweat that I could easily drown in my own pool of intoxication. I slide my sneakers along the pavement, and speak in whispers to the birds. My sculpture tilts back in a red robin's playing of a saxophone, breath expanded so fully that my walls are bending outward to contain it. 

A voice tells me, to take a breath, release a breath, and then to hold in the stillness. In the opening between breaths the world opens wider, clear as glass, as the wind blows tracing the lines of my face. A pair of birds in full animation, escort me to the river's edge. I am inside and out, and outside and in, all in the same breath. 

In reckless abandon my sneakers launch onto an isolated path, enclosed in a frosty morning cold  that settles like rain upon my exposed flesh. I think I hear the air move, steadily fluttering across my back.  

My sneakers mirror the split of my own indecision, turn right, or sway left? In the science of survival it is the acceptance of the reality of life, that pricks at my sneakers like the tip of a razor pressing against my skin. Another morning run.......traces of footprints left in the snow.........