In cold, I layer my purple Adidas running jacket over my long-sleeved shirt, black headband below my pigtails and over my ears, and thick Windshield gloves on my hands.
Earlier this week, I wore Yaktrax on my broken-down Brooks shoes to run on snow and ice layers.
Brown vines like brows thread through the grey wire layers of fences.
Bark peels in layers on tree trunks like paint on an abandoned house.
I layer step upon step, stride upon stride, and miles accumulate in an august posture.
Pruned rose bushes lie protected beneath their carapaces of layered orange pine needles.
Tensile shadows in layers stretch and constrict around me like dark veins pulsing in my temple.
Layers of white, yellow, and green repose on moss reposing on rocks, where light and shadow play hide-and-seek in clefts.
Snow slumps against cement curbs in black, grey, and white layers.
Continuing to layer on the miles, I turn, and turn again, and turn yet again, and in my run, join in the cavalcade of streets and paths.
Winter’s kaleidoscope turns the layers of branches like questions posed, green leaves, orange winter berries, and blue-white ice crystals.
Season layers upon season.
GL, 1/2/2010. Prevail.
Love having the visual aids for the vicarious runs we get to take with you. Your words and photos continue to delight me.
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