Poem #1

I generally exhibit manners that are mild:
I go easy on the sweet things; let the rushing rush hour pass me by;
identify an unbeknown bird call;
and I do not step in the potholes,
as I am running on the trail around the golf course…
I normally watch the placement of each stride,
a crucial concern to avoid injury.
Today I put my foot directly in it,
a large, memorized indentation in the road,
it was dry; I was sweating; the clouds were floating by -
so I made a different choice:
to land right in the center…
bending my right knee a fraction farther to account
for the drop;
an angle to allow for
a few inches more
down from the level surface.
I changed my focus that instant
from how I usually go…
and for several moments after,
I felt a difference in my stride:
the route I intend to run
around the golf course
no longer