He had put mile upon mile
upon mile of miles on black-
top and concrete, three to
five miles a day, five days
a week, forty-eight weeks
a year for forty years —
having, among other things,
written his doctoral diss-
ertation in his mind before
heading home to yards upon
yards of note cards, but then
after all those years he
discovered trail jogging,
tramping through the woods,
up hills, down to creeks,
inhaling the woods, pines
and shrubs, deciduous trees,
feeling the packed sand,
roots, rocks, taking a break
by a small lake, watching
the sun sparkle off ripples
dancing with the west wind,
stopping to greet a snake,
hearing the squirrels, seeing
chipmunks, watching for deer,
maybe a bear or a coyote’s
stare. Instead of finishing
a degree, he was starting at
the beginning, learning of
life hundreds of thousands
of years ago and into eternity
— prayer as a fun run, being
at one, feeling the warm hug
of Brother Sun, shalom, salim,
peace, everyone.