tainted

puddles
of nothing
and everything
litter the yard,
and the streets
are running
with old snow
and dirt and the last
few
leaves
of autumn.
and it’s hard not to drag the soupy earth
around
as I run
miles and hills
and blocks
until my legs are covered
in brown earth juice
and my shoes are squishy
full of melted snow —
the stuff of pure white nights
and illuminated darkness.
of magic
and mystery
and discovery,
now tainted