Words for the Chisel (collection)/Runner
For works with similar titles, see Runner.
Runner
You are not for valleys. Or for any maiden,You are a runner. I have seen. I know.You were never made to move, laden, heavy-laden;You were born to nimble air. I have seen you go.
One wind is your wind. I have seen you fingerForms in the air, sightless, hard to hold;Nothing ever held you, ever made you linger;Ever even ran with you; no one, young or old.
She is like a sickle, cutting swathes with rasping,Swishing as she comes, and the trees lie down like wheat;Go to find your phantom now, clasping and unclaspingA wind eluding open hands, eluding lightest feet.