The seasons are changing, and my perception is pin-pricked, antennas are up. I wander past pollen clad blossoms, hear bees in the air, the sound of the waves. I walk on a bed of petals, through a labyrinth of nature's perfume. Sparrows tweet, gossip and chatter... I want to know what they say, I think can I feel it?
Like a gannet I plunge into the morning, my running shoes on my feet, the welcome fresh wind beats about my face. I'm newborn, untouched, untouchable. I hear my feet on the pavement and with each leaping stride, faint breath through the music in my ears. Up the hill and around the corner I go, past the valley with the sea below, the rolling tide like blue satin stretching out yonder. I am moving, soon the view will be replaced by another, my theater stage is changing. I photograph it in my mind's eye, and continue up the next hill.
One of only a few cars I see approaches, I arc it to cross the road and as the driver watches me pass, I feel like an Olympian. I get a downhill thrill and off I go, sprinting as fast as I can, almost emptying my tank. In a bubble I am the chariot of fire, the winner of my own race, the success of a day yet begun. My body hurts and pines for more, I feed it, feed it the vigour as sweat gathers on my cheeks and down my back.
I run down the old narrow road, through the trees towering above my head, past the willow tree and trickling creek. I move my arms faster to aid the hill climb, I am reaching.. reaching...
Reaching the top of my last hill I take a spot run, then gaining momentum, take off down the hill with the last energy I can muster. I take it all and fuel my strides will all the passion I can bare. I can see my mailbox, I am home, I made it. I slow to a trot. Watching the sea again, my theater stage is back, but slows down before me.
These are my observations, before my day has begun.