Run Before Dawn
Most mornings I get away, slip out
the door before light, set forth on the dim gray
road, letting my feet find a cadence
that softly carries me on. Nobody
is up—all alone my journey begins.
Some days it’s escape: the city is burning
behind me, cars have stalled in their tracks,
and everybody is fleeing like me but some other
direction.
My stride is for life, a far place.
Other days it is hunting: maybe some game will
cross my path
and my stride will follow for hours,
matching
all turns. My breathing has caught the right beat
for endurance; familiar trancelike scenes glide
by.
And sometimes it’s a dream of motion,
streetlights coming near,
passing, shadows that lean before me,
lengthened
then fading, and a sound from a tree: a soul, or
an owl.
These journeys are quiet, They mark my days with
adventure
too precious for anyone else to share, little gems
of darkness, the world going by, and my breath
and the road.
from "The Darkness Around Us Is Deep"
