Where the road intersects

very near the river,
just below the old railway line
and across from the covered deer path
that veered into the unknown,

we discussed our own trails
some thirty years apart.

I had walked it.

He was a cross-country runner.

I recognized the race path
and never once assumed
it to be repeated.

Yet, for a while, he ran in my footsteps
and was running the hills smart.

Meanwhile other runners passed intermittently,
and we handed them cups of water and
they would douse themselves,
discarding the trash along the way.

We picked up the litter
so the path would be as we found it.

-unscarred and ready for travel.

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