I stay in the cow path

Wet blades of grass hanging into the rut

One foot carefully in front of the other

Opting to jump out

The shoes absorb the wet grass greedily

I frown

The air is full of warm humidity

The sun peeks out as I run from the shadow of an overhanging tree

Fallen leaves and soggy matted clumps of grass disguise bumps on the ground

Ankles roll this way and that

I drop my hands and relax.

From the plateau on either side of Lyme Road

I scan the surroundings

These are my childhood stomping grounds

Carved out of clay soils by Girl Brook over millennia

There are many pathways to rediscover

The cross-country course winding and twisting its way

Around and across overgrown tree-lined fairways

Remnants of the golf course where I played

Worked on the maintenance crew

Sharpened my game

I don’t regret a single swing of the club

Nor footstep

Nor walking behind the mower during the Green season.

I drop down and follow the brook to the mighty Connecticut River

The Green season is coming to an end

The first snow may fall next week

It’s time.

Sweat streams around my eyes

Over my cheeks and into my smile

I will embrace and endure winter as I always have

I will conjure up a plan and take pleasure in it

The Green season will be here before we know it

The blades of grass will be wet again

And my shoes will absorb it greedily.