I remember leaping over fallen branches broken in the morning's storm. I remember dodging dirt and gravel that had washed down driveways onto the walk. I can still see the archipelago of puddles that turned an everyday run into urban steeplechase. Along the way, my aging engine managed to chug me past slow traffic and muscular construction trucks, and I remember plodding over pavement stained with trampled blackberries, and I remember when running was easy. The rain moved on, but not the humid heat. I remember the salty stubble on my lip.
Copyright 2008 by Brian Dean Powers
Published in the 2012 Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar