Another poem inspired by Writer's Digest prompts:
Runner's High
After my run, but before I walk inside,
before my breath settles and my heart slows down
I stand outside and look up at the night sky,
the weak starlight creating constellations.
I watch as the street lights ping, pop, and click on,
illuminating the rough asphalt white.
I listen to distant traffic, the swish of tires,
similar to turning the page of a book.
I feel my body move like cogs and joints
a mechanism opening a doorway.
My skin cools, I lick the salt from my lips;
I taste like the night, the smell of lilac
separating the dark air like a curtain.
I feel summer moving as my legs do,
slow and steady, it rounds the corner sidewalk
never straying from its typical timeline.
No prediction is necessary, the sun
will rise in the east and set in the west
summer always follows spring
one foot in front of the other cresting the hill,
lungs burning to a rhythm that is as deep
as our bones and as ancient as our hearts.
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