On a snowy morning run
Posted by Simon Parke, 28 February 2018, 10.48am
On a frozen morning run, at the cusp of day,
A cold easterly smacking my face and hurting my hands, and the snow is fresh,
Though I’m not the first, signs of movement before me… the night crew, they leave their mark,
The fox paws padding earnestly on
The random imprint of rabbits bouncing
The clean hopping of the rooks’ feet, each print an arrow in the cold wet white
And the flight of the night owl, somehow caught in the frozen air, a winged imprint on icicled space,
While below, the heavy-booted dog walker, out crisp and early, head down, plodding like the ploughman, before curtains open, before bathrooms light
As now the orange sun appears, I see it rise, slowly and cold, and the white scene wakens, glitters in delight, glistening in pleasure.
I behold my own imprints in the snow
My past, a story clearly seen; my pacing and up-and-down journey, exactly recorded behind me
And cannot be changed, though I am where I am, and loving this moment, on a frozen run, at the cusp of the day.
It’s where my tread marks have brought me, and where all is quite white and quite well.