August 14, 2023
Greetings from my curious nature,
I stood in my driveway thinking about the road I would run, seeing the shape on a map in my head, this long irregular rectangle that weaves through the farmlands. I was alone, felt that solitude, and at the same time, felt the interest of creation.
The moon wondered what I was up to, standing there in the gray light before the sun. The cloudless sky was blue, deep cerulean in the west, and the east the color of faded forget-me-nots. I waved at the moon and it followed me as I took my first steps.
The sun was pulling itself up into the trees, winking between the trunks as I set off down the pavement, still damp in creases and low places from the rain the night before. I had the lanes to myself, the little village empty of the usual busyness. I wove through the town in the cool shadow of morning, feeling the first exploring fingers of the breeze from the southwest, asking me where I was heading.
The trees gave way to the open space, and the sky filled the world with blue. The horizon was held up by acres of ripe cornfields, the smell of summer filling the morning. As I ran past the rows of corn I could feel them asking each other what I was doing out there in the early morning, why I was moving so fast when it was so much better to simply grow in place.
The pavement turned to gravel for a while, and with each step I sensed the rocks and dirt under my shoes, scratching questions about the human above them. I ran west, and in each stride I felt the earth moving east beneath me, rolling the road under me while I was briefly in the air. Crows called brusque inquiries from the telephone lines, and I answered with my next steps.
I wandered around in my head for a while, pushing thoughts into place, obliquely managing my effort as the miles piled up. I felt the muscles working, delegated the work to the body that knows what to do better than any thoughts I could conjure.
I felt nature’s awareness of me as I moved through the morning, just as I was noticing all of it, with similar musings, I suppose. What is it you are up to? What will this morning hold for you? How are you? What do you make of this amazing beauty?
I slowed to a stop, distracted by a rebellious shoelace. As I bent to retie it, the sweat dripping off my face, off the brim of my hat, a bumblebee, so plump and noisy it seemed like a caricature, nosed around my feet, exploring me, trying to make out what I was doing there.
Now that I was in the wide spaces, I could see a cluster of clouds to the north, white tinged with purple and denim, a wide swath of gray curving down below it as it rained on the world, some thirty miles away. I sensed it saw me as well, and subtly changed direction to look closer.
The sun followed me across the fields, sending me my shadow to interview me. “I’m running.” I answered. “Eighteen miles.” “Because I love it.” “It is a time when I am at my best.” “Yes, you can come with me.” There was one more question, unasked.
I turned south, and my shadow changed positions. A murmuration of starlings rose up out of the soybeans, whirled above me for a moment until their interest was satisfied. They changed shape and then direction and danced into the morning to tell other small birds what they learned about me.
Off to the west a scrum of new clouds appeared, some white and gracefully arching, wisps of gauziness trailing around them. Others formed lower, dark with purpose. The clouds to the north seem to call to them, asking them to see what I was doing out there, like a cumulonimbus neighborhood watch.
I looked at the purple flowers in the ditches, knew they were spying on me, saw a yellow butterfly keeping pace with me for a while, not prying, but clearly wanting to know me as it flew along.
There was a noise I couldn’t name at first, a light snapping behind me. The sky above me was blue, but suddenly the rain’s curiosity got the better of it. Giant drops pelted the pavement, arriving miles ahead of the clouds that wondered about me, wanted to know me. The rain soaked me, surrounded me with water, coated my skin, explored my shape. I laughed at its boldness, surprised by its childlike forwardness. “Who are you?” the rain asked.
And then as sudden as it arrived, the rain stopped, thinking of the next questions, perhaps.
When I turned east again, the world had changed. Clouds rushed across the blue to create a new horizon. Some were rippling with muscular charcoal sinew, tinged with navy. Waves of white surf churned above them, a brilliant frosting.
I ran through a new rain of inquiries and then it lifted, seemingly satisfied. In front of me the clouds jostled and pushed across the east, nearly filling the space, but behind them I could sense the sun’s wonder, and it is rarely shy about asking. The clouds gave a small window, and the light cut through the narrow opening, making a brilliant golden column through the gray. The light was perfectly defined, as if someone had placed a ruler against the rainclouds and drew brilliance down to the green below. The sun asked: “What are you celebrating?”
I laughed again, delighted. “Life,” I answered, running toward it.
Hope this finds you the subject of interest,
David
Copyright © 2023 David Smith
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