Two runners traveling around the city
On foot can have in depth conversations.
Even when the wind rushes by in noisy gusts
The conversation is rarely disrupted.
Sometimes the runners must shout,
But their banter continues undeterred.
When the number of runners increases
From the number required to play war
To enough to play bridge
Filling the seats at a card table,
The conversation can be more varied
And the experience can be differently fulfilling.
The conversation can involve
The entire company of runners
With more opinions and knowledge informing
What is discussed.
But when the sidewalk is only wide enough
For two abreast
And the noisy wind blows strong from our left
Pushing us toward the water to the right,
The words of either pair are lost to the other two
As the soundwaves are blown wildly away
To float into the sky and join the ripples
Of the water in the harbor.
So, the conversation can continue
In any of six possible pairs.
The joy of the group of four compared to two
Is not double because there are twice as many runners
Or six times as there are that many more pairs.
In fact, it can’t be quantified
But the joy can be differently magical
With so many different ways to share
To light the way and
To lighten the hearts that pump the blood
Into four pairs of lungs
To provide oxygen to power the muscles
In four pairs of legs to move the runners
In unison around the city.
Four lives joined in harmony at sunrise,
Warming like the air as the sky grows lighter,
Carrying the energy of the sun
Like the flowers of the summer
The cold bodies remember from many other runs.
