Sprinting + Rain

As the crow flies

Among birds, sprinting in the street, air whipping the soft edges of my ears. Keeping the best pace I can as they dart around me the muscles in my thighs tightening with each step that slaps the asphalt, my calves heavy and grounded. From the corner of my eye a steady shape stays alongside me admist the whirlwind. A blackbird so large I would pause at extending my hand were we standing still. As birds whip past me in all directions as my knees pumping each step hoping to ascend in the cloud of caws. In the square of my back I feel the sharp flat shape of a triangle pushing. My shoulder blades pinch, arching, behind me the crow. My next step doesn’t land on the pavement, nor the next one. My legs keep chugging on unstopping but I am tumbling upwards, falling backwards over myself. The crow’s sharp head continues to push against my spine. First floating the length of the intersection, then higher above the houses, over trees. I wait for my legs to give out, to feel the muscle say enough is enough is enough. While I am pumping, there is no resistance. The air is cooler now, whipping still at the sweat on my face. I’m upright, in the flock, my arms, runners arms, pump forward in a sprint and I continue ascending.

△ △ △ △ △

As this so does that

As the rain rests in the early morning
So do I sit waiting for you to awake
To take on the day, I wait in patience
For you to rise and notice me

As the rain rests among the morning dew
Still in wait for the work to move to initiate
Quietness but in such necessity
An innate purpose know and appreciated