The Poetry Marathon

Where we have agency there is hope,

hope to build a better world

to not despair

to understand

what can be achieved,

has been achieved,

will be achieved,

to change how we live.

The future is not yet written,

we must attend carefully,

The warnings are call to action.

Climate hope is everywhere,

a natural resource

you need to look out for.

Endurance builds character,

character produces hope.

You find good people everywhere.

Imagination is our superpower.

I watch the basking sharks

that come to feed, with dolphins

and orcas

in clean Moray waters.

I am filled with joy

and determination.

In another world

which is not this one

there is another way of living

within our limits

without treachery

where everyone is loved

and safe

and cared for

and in equilibrium with all wild things.

In the still-rural village of my 1960’s childhood
we had already gained a reputation for adventurous cooking at home…

Mum being an Elizabeth David fan.

My sister’s classmates gathered round her when she brought ingredients

for spaghetti bolognese

to domestic science class.

Guest toyed, curious,

with the soy sauce

placed on the table with more usual condiments.

A scone pizza recipe

sealed our celebrity in the street,

so easy for us kids to make,

on large rectangular baking tins.

Tomatoes, cheese,

herbs and garlic (unheard of).

Running a house

running up bills

running up time

running for trains

running a temperature

running a race

running for joy

running for office

running for your life

running their lives

running my life

when does it stop?

Just running ….

You want to know where I am

I am where I said I would be.

I am right here. Writing. Quiet.

Wake early,

body ready like a colt

brain fogged like an old horse

drink fresh water

Shower, skin cool,

basic stretches, look out for knees,

coffee, painkillers, boiled egg, blueberries.

Lace up the lilac trainers

with tangerine soles,

Attach barcode at wrist.

Car keys or rail pass

dependent on the destination.

Join hoards of other strangers gathering

at the start line

for nine,

or half past in Scotland.

I don’t believe in hauntings

but I do believe

that taps turn on,

gushing at full force,

around us

in hospital rooms,

guest house bathrooms,

whenever we think of dad.

It has been reassuring when it happens.

The image is a swirl

of pinks and peaches,

fractals,

foxing the brain,

colluding against the senses.

The exotic flower

cushioned around a long black anther

is a flamingo momentarily.

Congratulations

on completing your fifty second Parkrun

and your first at Falkirk

you were the eightieth female

in a field of two hundred and eight

and sixth in your age category.

Your time was

thirty nine minutes and eighteen seconds

You achieved an age score

of forty nine point three six per cent.

Your NENDY is Knowsley.

Dopamine is addictive,

and so is joy.

Is this your personal best?

Author: ©️Jane Eckford

3rd September 2023

She’s always talking to people,

strangers in the street,

in the shops,

or at the station,

on her runs.

She meets them with a smile

and says good morning – every damn time.

A lovely day!

Good day!

Hello!

Who does she think she is?