Texas

You joke about waking up 2 kilometres into the morning run. The lights from the lamps stretch and collapse us as in a time-elapsed film; and you will have slept a dozen years before we reach the bend where the trees fall back and the wind, sailing over the lake, hits us squarely.

It jars from me a memory of a home.

pre-dawn mist becomes rain
the shadow crosses the trial
then the lone starling

 


please do not copy these drafts in their entirety – links are appreciated, however
all rights reserved, if there is still such a thing: © Ren Powell

This is one of a series of haibun based on morning runs along the same 6k route.

Would love to read your perspective.

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