Sweet Freedom

Windows down

while wind whispers

through my hair on

a hot summer afternoon.

Listening to The

Beatles play

into my eager ears.

Hand gliding to

the rhythm

of the beat. 

Smiling at the

simplicity of 

such a moment.

Running as if I my 

breath will never 

shorten into the

conversant woods

of my youth. 

The smell, sight 

and sounds of 

nature that provide 

the escape I regularly

seek out.

Sitting, watching people

pass by while sipping on

my loyal companion outside

the downtown coffee shop.

Trying to decode each

persons life while forgetting

about my own. 

Hiking the mountains

that call my name, carrying

my backpack that holds

the food I'll take in when

I get to the top.

Sitting at the top, looking

down at nature with all

it's compelling beauty,

grateful at the pure simplicity

of creation at which happiness

stems from.

This is my sweet freedom

from a world not yet made

perfect.

Reviews

[M.E.Lyle]

Not many people can understand what you're feeling. Most have not experienced a long hike up a mountain trail, or run 16 miles in preparation for a marathon. Most see you as an oddity, a freak of nature. I'm an old man now, but I remember those long runs when it seemed like my body was on auto pilot, and my head was just going along for the ride. There is one thing annoying about runners though, get a bunch of them together and get them talking about running and you can't get them to shut up. I know, because I was one.
This is a wonderful poem that flowed ever so gently. There is no bitter coffee taste in this one.