Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Ode to My Hill

Running out at Comanche Lookout Park yesterday, I felt like jotting down a fun poem or a play on homophones in the English language.  I've done quite a bit of run training in this small park and wanted to honor it in some way.  Everyone needs a hill, a place to challenge themselves.



I cried a tear, climbing your tier
Whilst tearing the tor
Your course, coarse
Through the gravel floe, mind in flow
I’ve made a peace with this small piece

I’d felt weak all week. 
Hearing pleas of please
Running I need, my quads I knead
And my heel, now healing 
Bidding you marque, making a mark

The trails not new, each turn I knew
However in the mist, I missed
Sitting idle, dreaming of idols
A small hare, sweat in my hair
What do I hear, here?

I’m born again, being borne
Nevermore mourning in the morning
Desire whet, with water tongue wet
Through every groan, I’ve grown
Seeing a hart, warming my heart
Through your thyme, I pass my time

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