the Runner

Freezing drizzle falls without warning.

Apparently there is a difference between

freezing drizzle and freezing rain;

one is slick and slippery as a frozen pond;

and the other a mix of snow and ice

creating a wee bit of crust boots can grab onto.

I’ve given up understanding the new descriptions.

What falls, falls and we deal with it.

I digress...

Returning from errands as the freezing drizzle fell

this lone figure appeared on the street.

Dressed in fluorescent yellow he plodded along.

I recognized him, a resident marathoner

who has returned to running at night,

no matter the weather. Just him in his element.

I stood watching as he ran into the park,

head erect, not as agile as he once was

but he ran in the drizzle, perhaps thinking of his loss,

running for her, his beloved of 55 years, now passed.

Is he hearing her voice, sensing her presence,

as he runs in darkness, the falling ice dulls his pain.