Waitakere Writerss

I jog the three-mile loop of Lanikai,
Returning to a place I’ve often run,
Past sea that’s warm and palms in the morning sky,
Among the gang who reap the slanting sun.
From wider orbits round and back I come,
To add and subtract from this circular sum,
Again to witness this fine neighbourhood,
And gain a sense of life well understood.
Around and round and back around again,
I see a change from how it used to go.
From time to time I find some things remain.
But where it ends is what I’ll never know. 
They say the linear approach lacks height and weight.
But it’s not bad when you are running late.
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