A morning of running,
Deep in the woods,
Where dew was puddled on the leaves,
And it rained when the wind blew.
Autumn’s persistence was paying off
And as I slogged through the wet leaves,
Thoughts of snow came to mind.
An afternoon of writing lessons,
At the kitchen table,
My pandemic office where six months have passed
Without a lick of snow,
Or a hint of any relief
From the stresses of this virus,
The routine of work, or the beauty of a morning run.
A night of Jason Bourne,
The chases, the ethos, and remembering high school days
Away from school and on the couch reading Ludlum.
Mostly, I’ve wasted this time, gladly staring
At the big screen, no Teams, no contrived groups
My only thoughts on the movie and dreamy ideas
About running trails in the snow.