in december

wow i actually ran today.

its been such a long time since i really used this pair of old legs. tired feet and cold air, the burn of lungs and legs, the sound of breath and gravel. i remember what it was like to love this feeling.

we're getting old, aren't we.


a memory of:
a quiet september morning, reaching the bus stop with no one there. the sluggish push of my own slowing motion; the heat of sunshine; the shiver of a leaf and i'm motionless under tree-shade. breezeless, everything stands in tableau, the trees still as if expectant, the air like glass around me. feeling like if i move, i might just fall through this world. noiseless and still, soundless and waiting: nothing moving but coiled like a spring.

dreaming in the slight shimmer of haze.
the weight of God's gaze in the dusted light.

moments where realness dissipates into syrup, and the world feels like a spiritual place.