I run in the winter
when icicles dangle, frozen waterfalls on the trees.
I run on terracotta sand
high on a cliff above turquoise water
so inviting I want to jump in.
I run past an assortment of dogs
attached to their owners and tennis balls and sticks.
I run over bridges
which carry me over streams of cars
heading north, heading south.
I run over and under trains
carriages full of people staring out.
I run across the estuary
boats heading out to the island,
people laughing, drinks in hand.
I run and notice
the smell of the earth, the rain
the freshly cut grass, the sea.
(Dont call me a fun runner, ever!)
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