Marathon

Trees in the full flame of fall

Cast shadows in blue on the ground 

where the first frost slowly melted back to dew 

faster on the grass in the golden morning sunlight.

We wished each other well at the starting line

and took our places in the pack.

The crack of the starting pistol sent us

running on open roads, and leaf strewn trails

away from, beneath, and along the highway,

just over twenty-six miles across the finish line

to celebratory high fives and back pats,

water that was never so cold and refreshing,

and fruit that tasted like candy.

Arms on shoulders, we posed for victory photos.

Muscles aching, bone shaking weariness,

while we drove to my friends’ home.

They won at straws for showers, 

so when the spectators went to basement couches 

to watch football on television, 

I alone went outside to the front lawn, 

to lie down in soft green grass,

basked in the warm afternoon sun,

and felt such sublime contentment,

a sleep of bliss overcame me.