Poems

New Runners

a tad late, but not to worry

there are many kind people here

almost all over fifty.

First,

we turn down

George Street

in single file

the lake is bluer than I’ve seen it

it’s the season for

hydrangeas, watch them bob

with their blooms of

white and green,

and pink-brown edges,

keep to the trail,

along

the perfect boxwood hedges,

now we pass

the lawn bowling club;

the houses south of Lakeshore

make us envious,

with their parterre gardens, but

we don’t say that, only

it’s so magical in the evening,

after a downpour,

and the perfect temperature

for a lakeside run.

Fifteen seconds more,

we lean into the hill,

arms beating,

shoulders down,

relaxed,

and feeling pleased

to have joined

the ranks

of runners.

Hilary Shantz

August 23, 2017

 

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