another fine running poem
The poet Nichola Deane introduced me to this fine running poem a few weeks ago.
I love its exuberance, its helter-skelter line breaks and most of all its happiness and completeness-in-itself.
Who hasn't run like that, through 'jolted light' - utterly aware of your surroundings and the cambers underfoot, fleet as a hare?
Running- Richard Wilbur
(North Caldwell, New Jersey)
What were we playing? Was it prisoner's base?
I ran with whacking keds
Down the cart-road past Rickard's place,
And where it dropped beside the tractor-sheds
Leapt out into the air above a blurred
Terrain, through jolted light,
Took two hard lopes, and at the third
Spanked off a hummock-side exactly right,
And made the turn, and with delighted strain
Sprinted across the flat
By the bull-pen, and up the lane.
Thinking of happiness, I think of that.