Just the kind of day you want for a run, in the woods, by the stream, past peak, sun doing its trick slanting through the trees. Fallen leaves conceal roots and ruts on the trail and other spots are muddy and slick, and I have to pay attention more than usual, focus where my foot will land and the trail will bend, that’s called being in the moment, said to be good for you, and I don’t fall, this time, I don’t take a wrong turn, and I find reasons aplenty to stop, rest, and ponder, catching my breath, following one golden leaf unmooring from its axil and waving so long to its mates, packing it in for the season, calling it a day.
