Morning Run 7: 00 A.M.

Leaves fall, the wind
no longer chained runs wild
a mad dog on the loose
Cerberus is laughing
underneath it all.

It all falls down, a branch
below my foot, a leaf
onto the ground, a raindrop
onto dry cheekbones

“where are you going? ”
the wind says with a laugh
“and what will you do
when you get there? ”

A hammered nail,
a foot pressed
to the ground
is not falling.

I press on