Run, January 11th 2009
UmberDove
I didn't even know what to make of the sunset
All bubble gum pink, pastel blue, covered in the palest gray wool.
It would have felt like a sugary-sweet nursery tale if not for the
Aggressive shocks of verdant moss and the blood-crimson berries.
The odd song of the gulls kept me company
As I ran through the park of naked trees,
Each surrounded by the brittle brown aura of
Leaves long fallen.
The crows with their guttural gossip followed me
Past the melancholy of decaying tombstones
Thick moss, deep mud, punctuated by
The occasional silk rose.
The dropping temperature invaded my throat
With its icy breath replacing my own
The rain stood in for sweat and
My only defense was to just keep running.
