( This is a ramble, apologies,.... I have not had one for a while)...
Out this morning, into the damp air. The rain storms overnight have left the world newly-washed and sparkling.
My warm up walk takes me out to the road, past the freshly- showered gardens. The regimented rows. the Brigadier Begonias, the Infantry Impatiens and the straggly-raggly rambling roses, escaping from the parade-ground beds. Out, onto the hill, no-one in sight, and a brisk walk, shaking out the stiffness from my old bones and loosening those tight muscles.
I took advantage of my solitude and stretched my arms out and above my head, bending and flexing as I walked. Turning before Seagull roundabout, I began to jog, very gently down the hill, gathering pace carefully; Laura's words, my absent, but familiar friend, in my mind.. face relaxed, hands and shoulders relaxed, running tall, which suits me so well, now. Lifting my heels, cycling motion and breathing... well..I just breathe 
Down to the main route through the village and across a deserted road and up past Rookery wood, silent and still; the dense lush greenness of the undergrowth, full of secret sounds, soft drippings and hidden streamlets beneath the tree roots. Wordsworth's words, echo, from my school days,
"...touched by faint, internal breezes, sobbings of the place. And respiration from the roofless walls..."
Still running up the hill and along the seaside-shingled track to the fields. My favourite runs are taken here. I love them. Round the edge of the first field, wet underfoot, but newly-cut since my last run..no thistled or nettled edges here now; round the perimeter, keeping a steady pace, words spinning in my head as I take it all in. Over the next, damp, field, a raptor hovers above an unsuspecting creature, wings fluttering, in a silent and deadly dance. Too far away for me to disturb him, he is still there, as I turn across the muddy stream and into the next field. Words fill my head;
Ted Hughes this time and, "...the hawk, Effortlessly at height hangs his still eye. His wings hold all creation in a weightless quiet.." I shudder, even in the growing warmth of the morning.
Along by the bottom end of the Steam railway track, here, where the ancient trucks and wagons find a final peaceful end to their days. Decaying slowly into the bushes, until they disappear, under the weight of Nature.
Up the incline at the far end of the field joining the track over the railway line, and across the flattish stretch past the Hidden Pond. The crop is growing strongly, damp and green this morning with shimmering droplets decorating the strong spiky stalks.. It is a deserted world this morning....and words from school-days still cling as I run, out through the gate, ( the one I can open) and along the lane to the next village; Wordsworth again...
" The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with rain drops..." I was sitting A-levels and the words, learn by heart for the English Lit' exam have stayed with me ... amazing! I think he would have loved my runs!
Well, some of them
Not a soul, not a car, just the horses along the ridge, grazing in the sunshine, and into the village. Round the stocks and back along the lane towards home. Slipping through the gate, I am conscious that I feel a bit tired, the run around the wet fields, my soggy shoes and the added distance of running the perimeters, is telling.
I up my pace a little now, even though I am weary. Lifting my feet and following the narrow track, back through the crop field, over the line and straight down towards the lane. In the lightening of the day, i am filled with the most incredible sense of wonder. I am out, in the morning, I am able to run, I can breathe, see, hear and feel and I am so thankful.
Then quite unexpectedly, the silliest thing. Suddenly, as I ran towards the end of the field and out into the lane, straight into my head, in time with my feet. ABBA!!! Again!
I had shared my run with two of my favourite poets and now ABBA??? Oh yes.. loopy is the word!
The tune, keeping pace with my running, over and over again...not their words, mine, no thought of making up words, they were just there.. what an ear worm!!! All the way home...and for most of the day! Heavens!
Thank you for the running, the runs I'm making,
Thanks for all the joy I'm taking
Who could live without it, I ask in all honesty?
Where would we be,
Without a jog or a run, who are we?
So, I say, thank you for the running,
For giving it to me
I am so, so sorry.... it's Friday!
PS
36 minutes solid running...6 K and a bit !
xxx
Mind you, you could be on to something there, a useful tactic to spur me along perhaps... hmm....
