the midafternoon light
hazing through the clouds.
We run in silence
too breathless to keep up conversation
communicating only with glances
and nods
as we slow on an incline
or speed up on a smooth downhill patch.
This is what I love
about trail running:
it’s both a communal prayer
and a bounty of solitude.
Jamison and I are here
present in our breath and movement
but I am also daydreaming
about being in Ms. Mills’s kitchen
with Lyric this past weekend—
and the idyllic candid shot
Ms. Mills snapped of us
our hands covered in chocolate
cocoa powder dusting our aprons
as we stood behind a butcher block island
Lyric’s berry lips
curled into a magnetic smile
as I leaned in close to her ear
as if telling her
a secret.
Really—I was singing in the shot.
Ms. Vivian had insisted we put on
Earth, Wind & Fire as we baked
