This raven upon the tree that used to look like a grandmother in an old style of dress but has weathered into an artistic rendition of a pitchfork
Will hover in the air when dog approaches
And dog looks up and they appear to be yelling at each other
Raven dips down and up and down further but always out of reach
*
Then this runner feels the packed sand or molasses sand or silky sinking sand up Achilles to gastrocnemius
Hamstring to glutes to core
Breathe with beating waves retreating, heart meeting fish and salt’s smell and taste of nostalgia
One mile ago is never happening again
*
Phone rings most times regarding my role as physician and reminds
Me not to think I have my own life
*
This stone calls also
So I stoop to gather it
Pocket full of rocks
*
Dog twirls in air arriving fresh having fully known this was going to be the best day of his life so far
No last time or next time compares
*
I can run from this factually literally sensationally until the parts that ache forget their sorrow and the parts that sit idle remember their purpose and
While a powerful man who brags about pussy grabbing- as my transgender child with addiction and mental health problems serves thirteen years for a crime committed at age eighteen while high -is acquitted despite trying to kill our so-called democracy
This anger upon me dissolves into just being a mother and a doctor and my dog’s companion
Taking stones to my garden
Never quite able to get all the sand out of my running shoes or my dog’s tight curls
