when you awaken at some ungodly hour
ease your way around your dreaming spouse
to sneak through the house like a thief
and put on your running shoes
and even the cats look at you
as though you’ve lost your mind:
you will ask
why am I doing this?
because.
because when you begin to run
down the street
your footsteps will echo
off the sleeping houses.

we run before dawn
two pairs of feet trotting along
dark silent streets,
then up the mountain.
a few feet off the road
three deer
foraging in the woods
silhouetted in the dim cold
they look up for a moment
then ignore us
as we continue down the road
the horizon now swelling pink
through the bare trees.

running
feet and ground
through the damp spring air
infused with honeysuckle