April 16, 2013

clear as their joy and yearning

We were lucky. The weather service predicted rain,
gave us the news with three, four days to prepare,
and we added to our luggage the wardrobe for a downpour.
Not them. Not those bystanders at the race or the runners in it.
They began their day innocent to the fury accompanying their journey.
They did not pause after their early breakfast to consider anything
but the picturesque spring morning they’d woken into.
A perfect day – oh cruel irony – for running.
I imagine them, peering at the sky, clear as their joy and yearning.
This is what I want to remember: all that blue and the season, turning.