view from the porch

I was busy in the attic, making a collage for a book cover, when I became aware of unexpected movement on the street below. Sunday mornings on this avenue are usually pretty quiet, except for the occasional marathon. And sure enough, it was a marathon morning. I called to Jake that we were going on the porch and I heard his click-clacky nails on the stairs. (I delude myself that he knows the word "porch", but the word he probably knows is "go").

Traffic was stopped, so all you heard as the runners emerged through the trees was the rhythm of their feet, soft and strong.



A traffic cop was on guard to keep any wayward cars from competing with the runners and they made their way in dappled sunlight, quietly, determined and focused. I envied them their energy and good knees.



You know, I think Winter truly is over.