Run Before Dawn

TopCounsel

Run Before Dawn (by William Stafford)

Most mornings I get away, slip out the door before light, set forth on the dim, gray road, letting
my feet find a cadence that softly carries me on. Nobody is up--all alone my journey begins.

Some days it's escape: the city is burning behind me, cars have stalled in their tracks, and
everybody is fleeing like me but some other direction. My stride is for life, a far place.

Other days it is hunting: maybe some game will cross my path and my stride will follow for hours,
matching all turns. My breathing has caught the right beat for endurance; familiar trancelike
scenes glide by.

And sometimes it's a dream of motion, streetlights coming near, passing, shadows that lean before
me, lengthened then fading, and a sound from a tree: a soul, or an owl.

These journeys are quiet. They mark my days with adventure too precious for anyone else to share,
little gems of darkness, the world going by, and my breath, and the road.

Ed prochak

topcounsel@aol.com (TopCounsel) wrote in message news:<20031211120119.11786.00000530@mb-m25.aol.com>...
> Run Before Dawn (by William Stafford)
>
> Most mornings I get away, slip out the door before light, set forth on the dim, gray road, letting
> my feet find a cadence that softly carries me on. Nobody is up--all alone my journey begins.
>
> Some days it's escape: the city is burning behind me, cars have stalled in their tracks, and
> everybody is fleeing like me but some other direction. My stride is for life, a far place.
>
> Other days it is hunting: maybe some game will cross my path and my stride will follow for hours,
> matching all turns. My breathing has caught the right beat for endurance; familiar trancelike
> scenes glide by.
>
> And sometimes it's a dream of motion, streetlights coming near, passing, shadows that lean before
> me, lengthened then fading, and a sound from a tree: a soul, or an owl.
>
> These journeys are quiet. They mark my days with adventure too precious for anyone else to share,
> little gems of darkness, the world going by, and my breath, and the road.

wow.

That was good. Thanks for sharing it.

Enjoy the run. Ed

Miss Anne Throp

Escape, hunting, and dream of motion? This is the first jogging related poem penned by a crack
addict, that I've ever heard of. I'm not sure which is more disturbing. The fact that someone
actually wrote this drivel, or the fact that our favorite bloated attorney likes it so much, that he
posted it.

Tellit Likeitis

>Run Before Dawn

I prefer running behind her (great butt).

Tom Wheeler

sometimes it carrets in a deer shake. sometimes it corn in a field. sometimes it gas from a
construction site. butt most it is cans from homes being built. and then there is the cans on the
roads all worst 10 cent u.s.a. in my woods area.. Then there the cold. the wind. below zero weather.
and most al. there is no sound. there is eyes to see in the dark. there is no radar to say. there is
light fromthe moon. the dogs sleep. the animal hunk in the warmth of there selfs. I love to watch
the deer on the road. There is me with a big club, a sharp knife. and a mountain bike. To ride and
find 4 or 5 or less bucks in cans so I can buy food, good food to go home and read my books. and
warmest of body heat in the day light time..... to send more resumes with no replyes, to see once
top of builders and say to me F and I am cur. I say F U too...... and well I sell there homes that
sit....at least I can do......I do........I am not going toXhytgb%^$^&&* this tp.........I am gong
to or (thermodynamics) I ride with 2 hats, I fix old lady tire on road and said give that money to
the church.they do good. I would but something stupid. Or lady who cleans the horse stalls says.
Don't like your F Bi, and she give so much food to the needed.....I love the homeless. people who
care for people.......The savalition lady said want a job. I said mayb latter. I am good. and she
said. NO YOUR NOT..oh like I have not heard this before. and see sys who cares about your
hat......zipper out. and home, still have both.. in full orange hunter fit.... bath resting and time
to go and read. I love the dark.......I am Nature.........I read navy seals...........I amgame are
you. pinky turd the 3rd.........I like the way there hair never seems to move. Mine is garth..A
snake pit in all direction waiting and wanting to grow long......I am hercules... The stars were
bright and 3 on down hill undermoon at day light to west....BAM december 13 saturday 2003.

TopCounsel

>This is the first jogging related poem penned by a crack addict, that I've
ever heard of.

What do the crack addicts you read generally write about?

>our favorite bloated attorney likes it so much,
that he posted it.

Rather a nice turn to be called "bloated," at 6'1" and 160 lbs.; I generally get "skinny bones."