Cross-Country Poem by Ray Mather

On and on
Through the snow we run
Puffing and panting
It’s not much fun
Over the fence
And into the stream
Mouths obscured
By commas of steam
Trainers soaked
Shorts splattered with mud
Freezing to death
“For your own good! ”
Plodding along
Mile after mile
Under the gate
Over the stile
Legs like jelly
Feet like lead
Wet hair slapping
Against the forehead
Defying the cold
For just under an hour
Before burning to death
In a scalding hot shower!


© Ray Mather 1988