Lake Nokomis on an autumn day, 
clear and sunny water,
bluer now after an early frost.
Jets fly low over head,

roaring off to some exotic part of the world,
leaving Minneapolis far behind
to the mallards that swim nearby
to the couples out for a stroll
to the odd souls with metal detectors
sweeping for lost diamond rings or loose change
to lovers kissing under the Cedar Avenue Bridge
to dogs tugging at their leashes to run wild
to a spaniel caught for a moment in midair
as it leaps over rushes to splash in the water below
to the joggers, gracefully weaving
through children with scooters and skateboards.

A breeze blows in from the west
across the lake and caresses the back
of a runnier in day-glow yellow sneakers.
She smiles at the reflected light of the moon
in the bright midday sky,
focuses on her breathing,
relaxes and bounds ahead,
sidestepping negative thoughts,
loving the cool air and the run itself,
that sends her rushing ever forward
to exotic places in her mind. 

This poem was first published in Well Versed in 2014

Terry Allen is an emeritus professor of Theatre Arts at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, where he taught acting, directing and playwriting. He is the author of five poetry collections. His poems have appeared in many journals, including I-70 Review, Third Wednesday, The Main Street Rag, Still Point Arts Quarterly, and Popshot Quarterly. In addition, his work has been nominated for an Eric Hoffer Book Award, a Best of the Net Award, and a Pushcart Prize. He is living now in Columbia, Missouri with his wife Nancy and their dog.