Right-brain Leading...

Soft pad, pad, pad, pad,
down the hill and past the airfield.

A cluster of birds in a clump of tall grass, unseen,
"weet, weet, weet, weet"
wind rustling dead leaves clinging to the pin oak
now drowned out by the whine
the whine of a jet engine
constant whine - parked on the tarmac
whine fading climbing the next hill

"Tish, tish, tish, tish" traipsing over sand-covered asphalt
sand collected on the side of the road
elongated patches formed by the melting snow
thick pads of snow drooping over rocks

Blankets of snow interrupted by bright glowing orange flags
bursting out of the ground
makeshift markers of grand plans

As hills yield to flats a solitary bird calls in the distance
"ee-yoo, ee-yoo"

Wheels on asphalt,
motors whine past,
petrol smell of paint permeates the air -
but only briefly

Stately colonial homes
some long standing, some new
bright light blue, or yellow, or deep green
splashes against the dull browns and grays of the bare woods.

And as the flats yield to more hills
breathing, up, down, breathing, up, down, breathing,
suddenly arrested by the intense quiet of the cemetary

Sleepy Hollow cemetary

Yes, that Sleepy Hollow cemetary
where slumber giants,
Concord philosophers,
Hawthorne, Alcott, Emerson,

Thoreau

Time advances

Folding back over hills
quicker pace, sand and puddles
"tish, tish, squich, tish"
cars whoosh, whoosh

The bird still calling
"ee-yoo, ee-yoo, ee-yoo, ee-yoo"

Hills become flats and flats hills again,
faster, breathing, up, down, faster, breathing
wind rushes through the trees
past the airfield and a plane droning overhead
and up the final hill
breathing, breathing, up, up

Walking, mind clear, walking
stretching hamstrings under a pine tree
quiet, no, be quiet
the pines whisper
shhh



[Left-brain wants everyone to know we ran 6-plus miles.]