The Ghost on Dead Bird Run

I rise,
silent,
in the dark
and peer out
at the wind, strong but not impossible.
Nothing is impossible.

I lace
up
silently
and don a vest
for safety.

I step out on
Bird Road,
keeping silent still.
In step,
maintaining pace,
inhale the morning air,
asthmatic lungs rhythmic.

This run
has
landmarks
a dead bird
right here,
squashed.
A dead Pukeko
saddens me.