Even the poison ivy
Changes color
Warmed to yellow, orange,
Brown, and red by
The setting sun
As I run
Testing my breathing
Testing my strength
Resetting when my knee
Tells me I’m out of practice
At holding my form
With a painful twinge
Then, one of those moments of epiphany,
When the title of the story
I am slowly (mostly not) writing
Bursts into knowing
Like block letters in my vision
Against the quiet autumn draped road
I gasp out loud and pick up the pace
Grateful for epiphanies that come
When you’re not searching for one
With love,
Natalie