Running in Santa Ynez Mountains by Greg Lehman

1. I told myself
I went left at the river,
that taking the sound
of water
would bring me back home.

2. The bobcat glared
at the edge where asphalt
meets earth, until
she looked my way,
took her time disappearing
long before
I was anywhere close.

3. No matter where
a raptor might find you,
or which one it is,
osprey, owl,
hawk, harrier, kite,
vulture, eagle,
or caracara, they are always
above where they are,
even the trail
we share for a moment,
the steps I take
are worlds below eyes
that see everything
and see through it, decide
what to take
with talons as hooked as fate,
just as sharp, sparing nothing.

4. The downgrade gentles impact,
robs the brunt of each footfall
in tandem with how much restraint
I let go, trades
prudence out, it’s scary,
this is steep, this
can fuck me up
riding legs
that have never been
more my own.

 

 

About Greg LehmanGREGGGGGGY_B&W-25

Greg Lehman earned an MFA in creative writing from Lindenwood University and a BA in journalism from California State University at Fullerton. He has published and edited as a professional journalist, and continues to pursue the field through his website loudowl.org. He also enjoys writing short fiction and novels, as well as poetry, sometimes.   

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