POEMS/ Hapax Legomenon
Hapax Legomenon
I am walking home on a winter day—
down jacket, feet encased in boots,
thick mittens, wool hat to keep me warm.
Behind me, I hear the sound of running feet,
and as the tall, lean runner passes me—
his feet are bare. Down the gritty sidewalk,
through slush, icy mud, blue kernels of salt
he runs a steady pace and never waivers.
Some African runners prefer to race
with their feet unshod, their soles
hardened from years of going shoeless
on unpaved sand or dry-hard earth.
To see a runner in Vermont jogging barefoot
on a concrete January sidewalk, for me was
a “one-off”, rare enough to justify the title
of this poem: two words in Greek for anything
that has been said or seen just once.
Poem posted by PoemTown, Randolph for Poetry month at One Main Pub & Grill on the corner of Main and Merchants Row.
I am walking home on a winter day—
down jacket, feet encased in boots,
thick mittens, wool hat to keep me warm.
Behind me, I hear the sound of running feet,
and as the tall, lean runner passes me—
his feet are bare. Down the gritty sidewalk,
through slush, icy mud, blue kernels of salt
he runs a steady pace and never waivers.
Some African runners prefer to race
with their feet unshod, their soles
hardened from years of going shoeless
on unpaved sand or dry-hard earth.
To see a runner in Vermont jogging barefoot
on a concrete January sidewalk, for me was
a “one-off”, rare enough to justify the title
of this poem: two words in Greek for anything
that has been said or seen just once.
Poem posted by PoemTown, Randolph for Poetry month at One Main Pub & Grill on the corner of Main and Merchants Row.
