The world seems asleep and silent;
my breathing the only sound I hear. Far
off in the distance I see a car traveling down the road but I do not hear
it. The morning is incredibly
peaceful. A neighbor cautiously drives
by and their headlights reveal what I could already feel; snow was lazily
falling.
My footprints leave the only
evidence of my trail. The displaced snow
on the country road I am running tell me a few of my neighbors have left for
work. The snow laden clouds part for a
whisper showing me the bright quarter moon they conceal.
Snow rests atop a mailbox perched on
a weathered cedar fence post. The fence
had come down over time with a few sections still remaining. Nails rusted past their usefulness leave
cedar beams hanging precariously along the field’s edge. The snow clings to it trying to cover the age
of the fence with the newness of white.
A rabbit hopping through a field
catches my eye. He stops and watches
me. He blends in perfectly to his
surroundings. My footfalls startle a
duck sleeping in the rain filled ditch and he takes to flight. He in turn has startled me. Within seconds I have lost sight of him in
the pre-dawn morning.
At the turn around point I reverse
my steps to head back for home. Not
wanting the run to end I decide to add another mile despite knowing the rest of
my morning will be pressed for time. The
snow falls heavier now. Looking down I
see my footprints made at the start of my run.
I follow them feeling as if I am running in the faintest of echos.
I run to the back yard, finishing my
run while pressing the stop button on my Garmin. Drinking my water, I stand silently
outdoors. The world seemingly pauses
with me, and for a brief moment the only thing being done is the watching of
falling snow.
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