Night Run

In this quiet place two lanes of eucalypt reach up in reverent pillars. High above, the arched canopy guides our syncopated footsteps toward moonlit clearings. It is our pilgrimage path of laughter and tears, this natural archway with stars pinned to it like diamonds, here where city and nature meet. This is where we face life with its glories and challenges, where we sweat out the hurt, the anger and the pain, and soar on the joys. This path that follows historic tracks and resonates with untold stories, is also criss-crossed by nocturnal life in all planes... there is the contant rustling and bouncing of little white flags as rabbits scurry away to their warrens, the phantom frames of grazing kangaroos startled by our appearance out of the dark, swaying slightly delayed into more rapid retreating motion...the croaky call of a possum to its mate up in the fragrant foliage, and the invisible growth of mysterious mycelia that will, with the right amount of rain, produce a treat of wild mushrooms in the morning.

How precious are these sacred evenings, how beautiful our journey through life with its triumphs and its torments, with dark and light, night and day, drought and rain, all producing growth and fruit, more understanding, more authenticity...and so we run, and we run again