Remembrance of Running Past

| December 29, 2011

I run now

only in my daydreams

when my mind spins freely

as it used to wheel

when running shoes were tied

and I headed out

along the forest trails.

 

Then as breathing settled

resting on the edge, balancing

oxygen loss and gain

a disengagement occurred

of left brain control

and the freely spinning right brain

filled my self

with vivid sense images.

 

The old log pond

on the right side of the trail

breathed a bouquet

whose complexity

defied full description

and transported

the runner passing.

 

I think now of those running days

and sadness descends, bittersweet.

All things are subject to the metronome.

Rust and the moth

prove the power of entropy.

Yet the spirit: imagination and memory

lifts and reconciles

and yields acceptance for what is gone forever.

 

Bob Dickerson died Dec. 7 at age 89. He was a retired professor of economics, a founding member of the Six Rivers Running Club, and a poet.

 

Comments (1)

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I love this poem. It just lifted my spirits, as an aging falling apart older woman who used to run, the meaning went far beyond the giving up of running. It was such a graceful way of accepting what can't be changed.

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Posted by Judy Webb on 01/01/2012 at 8:45 AM
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