A bird sings

I am three kilometres
into a five kilometre run
with my breath fast and heavy
and my legs tingling from disuse

A bird is singing

There is sweat down my back and front
My leather gloves are hot, catching sun in my hands
My hood is bouncing on my shoulders, bad hair be damned

A bird is singing clear

up and down in a sing-song that may be encouragement
may just be come on or good job or onward!
I am pushing through the last wall where everything cries to
give it up because giving up is what makes sense

not yet


I used to pray myself through these moments
Now I write a poem in my head
Are they not the same thing?

Different words for thank you tied to life’s specific goodness
Language stretching upward to lift up someone other
A string of pleas for mercy strung like rosary beads
A litany of lamentations soggy on the laundry line in Monday’s sleet

God, for God-knows-why, holds back his replies but some are leaking onto my tongue

A brd is singing

Before I know it I am
rounding the final corner
Before I know it
I am home

A bird sings

Photo by Kyle Kranz at Unsplash

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