[Editor’s Note: This Community Voices piece is a poem by lifelong runner, Angie Funtanilla.]
The winds have died down and
Apparently so have I.
A bit rattled I used to be yesterday,
What — with the frenetically whipping winds
You’d be too.
I ran anyway,
It didn’t matter,
It by no means does.
I imply the climate, after all.
Windy sizzling humid Unhappy,
Wet chilly Joyful.
It will probably all come as it might,
And it does.
12 months after 12 months, irrespective of the place
I discover myself,
I lace up the kicks. That’s what I do.
Not for a ought to or a prize or to stick to some schedule.
Until you’ll be able to name my coronary heart’s need a schedule.
That’s once I go then, regardless.
Angie Funtanilla undeterred by a wet day. Picture courtesy of Angie Funtanilla.
