I see the start line again this evening is still

not cured, just the slightest imprint from that last lap.

With more time it should season.

Good enough to run again, maybe tomorrow I will

get lucky and not think about us. Somehow, I suspect, you will

get past me, but like a new race, we get a fresh start.

The wind racing, a folding in before a blasting

out, sprinting to cover the valley road below. My heart

once again expanding in time to let new love grow