The Lonely Run

Darkness was giving way to the first rays of the dawn. The light orange colors slowly bleeding into the sky as the sun starts its daily journey. I can hear the excited sounds of birds waiting for their breakfast. This is the way the day starts for me when I do my long run . As I run down the sidewalk skirting the cemetery, I see the fog rising from the tombstones lining the hills in orderly rows. I ask myself if they are watching as I run by. Are the spirits there mingling with each other? Is it a part of their entertainment? Is that what they do as they gather around their resting place . Are they drawn to watch me ? Do they feel my life force as I run by? Does this draw them to come out and watch? Certainly they long to be alive again and run with the wind in their face just once more . To feel the sun warm on their face to take away the coldness of their tombs?  I smile as I continue down the road in the early morning hours, Feeling their presence by my side as I run. I am safe in the assumption that on these long lonely runs, I am never really alone.