Guest Haiku-- by the Jo-Man

My bird's like a car.
Both leak while in motion.
Me too-- when I run.

My mind won't be still.
I run straight, it goes crooked.
Must stay on the path.

So, who's in charge here?
My brain, or my sick stomach?
My heart starts laughing.

Late wedding last night.
But I rose, ran six miles...
Unless I'm dreaming.

12 miles

The first six-- perfect.
Then it's Harlem Hill again.
It's always something...