“Sometimes I don’t feel like running, but when finished I’m always pleased.”
“Ah yes,” responding with arched brow, “the hardest part is tying your shoes.”
Its diaphanous wings are dragonfly-like, but it’s smaller. It travels along side me, matching my pace.
Hey, good start but,
try staying up.
Where are your wings?
Hmm, maybe not
but, nice attempt.
Quite suddenly it darts away.
I continue pushing off, lifting one foot as my other foot has not yet touched ground. Momentarily I am airborne. Gravity yields. I alight just long enough to garner power from the planet’s core or from my body. It’s enough to propel me up and forward, again and again…
I do this for three miles, a distance that works for me. Any more and my body rebels.
I pluck a feather from the flesh near my hip
a full, though somewhat damp feather.
How did it become rooted in my body?
a transformation
no longer a 67 year old human
I am a flying being
power surging
running with the abandon of a child
one airborne step at a time
a stand of aspens bursts into applause
as I soar 'cross the finish line
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