Running at 55

Running Clothes
I start today's seven-miler
	watching my energetic neighbor pile
		bountiful brown leaves

along both sides of the walk.
	A sky of gray fleece
		opens one brief

buttonhole of light.
	When I reach the Starkweather bridge
		the olive-green, weedy-green

creek seems solid and still
	as marble.
		Year by year I watch

my pace and resilience
	tumble
		like foliage from the trees, so

I'm glad for this easy hour
	out and back
		on strong and sturdy legs.

My ambitious neighbor's relentlessly
	raking when I return. He points
		to three large, leafy nests

clotting the bare branches above us.
	The wind naps.
		The leaf mounds

stand.
	I run Fall's gauntlet
		of beauty and decay.

Copyright 2007 by Brian Dean Powers

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