THE RUN

Toes arched, flexed, like a tendril

reaching out into the open air

Feeling the wind brush, tickle, entice.

Taking no step, no hesitate

Awaiting spring in the even stride

Heels firm, one planted, one uprooted

poised for flight casting shadow behind

the umbra following an upward graceful arc, 

a surge of energy, a rush of blood inside

Fingers, some taut, some outstretched

some curled around an echo

quivering, awaiting the start

speaking to each other with heads alert

anticipating the trigger from higher ground

and then they must, the air divide

Arms, rotating around single axis

now swinging, now shaking

like a pendulum on a wet dog

warming up for the full course

electric waves sending twinges

like cannons on the broadside

Head, at the ready, held steady

to make the best of the starting gun

Balanced and full of intent

Like a rock, firm,

purposeful, suspended before the signal

in a carpenters vise, stupefied

Heart, a flutter, a thousand beats

percussing towards a unified chorus

Pulsating with expectation

Haphazard vibration, jarring, shaking, quaking through a new countryside