Legs

He knew today his legs would carry him home, carry him the five or so kilometers that he had planned to run. The sun, coming up over the marshland slowly, catching the water, glimmering golden, extinguished the presence of one or two biting mosquitoes as with each step and each second he created a new moment, becoming somebody he had felt like before but never been before as the dust and debris of night fell to the path. He ran in a fairly large circle under a blue sky, running rings around the scorched overgrowth and the still lagoons of water: dark water by green, muddy, mossy banks where the odd bird with long legs was picking at the ripples. With each lap the temperature climbed and like the sun he rose to the challenge – his legs carrying him home. Towards the end, sweat fell from his face like waves of adoration from a cheering crowd and a seagull swooped near the finish line. He caught his breath in the shade radiant and regenerated before heading to the supermarket for cat litter and fresh coriander.