Trees, magic, kindness
No matter how often it happensthere is still something magicalabout running between trees,between two flanking rows of poplarsor around the rolling trailsin the woods, the spindly light-seekingtrunks moving in the wind, or here in open fields along a path between two oaks ignoring the call of autumn and taking things in their own time.  
And today the magic is heightenedby the warmth of the winter sun and the word I have learned for that: apricity. The consonants sparkling on my tongue as I feel the heaton my face, stepping over puddles wearing their wrinkled coats of ice,and take the track towards home.Then wondering whether I should stop or carry on running when I see 
the unleashed dog ahead. But a woman calls it to heel, stands fast at the side of the barren field so I don’t have to make a choice. Thank you, I say. Solovely, isn’t it. The day, her kindness.