Jogging

Jogging

His breathing deepens, starting a first circuit

after stretching, then settles into two-stroke

rhythm with each stride.  No-one else hears

those creaking joints roll and ease in oily air.

 

All the English trees are silent now, holding

their own counsel, trying not to catch his eye,

but the Eucalyptus beside the bowling green

waves its sociable leaves every time he passes.

 

by Oliver Comins

 

 

Oliver lived in York for a while where, among other things, he drove a laundry van and played darts in the Yorkshire Super League.  He does his own washing in West London nowadays. His collection 'Oak Fish Island' is available here.

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