June
13, 1994 (I was 49)
Turn
the corner or come round the bend
to feel wind in the face blowing a pace
not felt from behind.
Disconcerting to find
our movements of skill and grace
were artificially aided by wind at our
back,
Like the buoyancy of water
a levitating wind we were carried upon
and ran upon by choosing the path of
the current,
the path of gravity unimpeded
until a friendly eddy brings us about
against the surprising force of the
flow.
Facing the wind, fronting the wind
breath is filled with what is in the
air,
lungs full with the forced inspiration
as when faced with an uphill climb.
But there is no hill, only the passage
of time
a change in direction and the
resistance of wind.
Wind builds strength in the body
but each new turning toward resistant
direction
requires an energy of unexpected
intensity,
causes a pained exclamation from the
thighs,
acknowledges in wry recognition less
than surprise
the spiraling passage pulsing in sinew.
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