The Songs of the Long, Long Road
The salty morning air whispers
promises as you wait
for the sympathy to begin.
The quiet morning ocean
plays a soft soothing rhythm
like drum broomsticks
It seems to be singing that it too
has a marathon to run
as it washes the grainy sand back and forth.
The eucalyptus leaves clap in the breeze
and breathe out a scented air
this morning to remember.
The numbered runners chatter and move nervously
not unlike the buzzing
audience at a music concert.
The starter voice dims the crowd
and runners tense waiting
the sound of the starters gun.
A thousand shoes hit the road
in a unison soon lost
to a rain drop random patter.
The beating heart like a strummed guitar
soon jumps from a romantic Segovia
to a fast rhythmatic Django.
Dancing gypsies faster and faster
as the camp fire leaps toward the sky
and the guitar is a blur.
The applauding crowds
ask for an encore
and give you a spurt of adrenaline
Softly your breathed wind sings along
to become a near pant as
the beat pushes you ever forward.
The music stops, the breathed wind
becomes a throat burning blast
and the aching side and rubber legs take center stage.
The ribbon cut -
the race over -
another verse on the song of the road.
So where is the next road to be run,
another sympathy to play
another ribbon to be won?
Doug Minnis 9/2015
For the runner Dorian Momsen