minnehaha falls and back
10 degrees / feels like 1
light snow / 100% snow-covered
Winter! Snow, (almost) empty trails, fresh cold air, not too much wind. What a wonderful run. I ran slow and steady. The trails were completely covered and, if I didn’t know the paths so well, I might have had trouble seeing where to go but, I’ve run here so many times, I was fine. Everything was white, even the river.
10 Things I Noticed
- 2 types of crunching as my foot touched the ground, then lifted up: a slow creeaakk then a quick snap. Longer when walking, shorter as I ran. Both happening at same time, with the touching foot creaking and the lifting off foot snapping
- Snow brushed on one side of the tree trunk, looking like confectioners sugar
- the curved retaining wall, above the ravine, was easy to see, no longer hidden behind leaves
- Graffitti all over the wall of the biking half of the double bridge
- the falls were gushing at the bottom, iced at the top
- most of the trail was not slippery, but a few spots of ice or crusty snow hidden under fresh snow, were slick
- a few trucks and some workers parked near the John Stevens House, calling out to each other in loud voices
- the fake/recorded bell from the light rail train dinging for at least 10 seconds
- someone running much faster than me wearing a bright yellow vest
- lots of cars on the river road, most had their full lights on, at least one only had their parking lights on, a few had no lights on
Found this series of poems by Victoria Chang this morning, from her upcoming collection, The Trees Witness Everything:
The Wild Geese/ Victoria Chang
They are not wisdom
or freedom or history.
They are not what’s lost.
They are nothing but wild geese.
I can hear them everywhere,
wings pushing down metaphor.
Here’s what she writes in her “about the poem” section:
“These are a group of small poems that are a part of my forthcoming book, The Trees Witness Everything (Copper Canyon Press, 2022). They are all written in various syllabic forms and the titles are all W.S. Merwin poem titles.”
This one is almost a tanka (5/7/5/7/7), with one extra 7 syllable line at the end. In Obit Chang wrote a tanka that I really like:
My children, children,
there’s applesauce everywhere
but it’s not for you.
It is strange to help someone
grow while helping someone die.
I love how effectively and efficiently she captures the difficulty of being a parent while your parent is dying. The applesauce does so much here, conjuring up little kids and their snacks, and old people at retirement homes eating softer foods. It makes me reflect on the similarities and differences between the very young and the very old, both needing help, but having different futures.