The trail begins at the bay bridge — a shoestring path worn into lakeshore grass. It's a good place to run: the ground is knee-easy, stumble-soft. Your companions are the oval-leafed locust tree, the hop- happy rabbit, the glistening wink on the crests of waves. It's the kind of tee-shirt-and-shorts afternoon you dreamed of all winter, where a good run makes the day blaze. The kind of run where you relish the gentle sway of your shoulder blades, the sweat dripping off your arms, the quadriceps' flex just before footfall.
Copyright 2014 by Brian Dean Powers
Published in the 2018 Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar