They come together one at a time under
a daylight moon stretch grunt make small
noises turn round and round until all
heads face into the wind and the leader
leads them off sets a durable unanimous
pace and they run grinning run listening
for other sounds crunch of snow creak
of high timber in the cold and the shared
heat of their convention excites the temper
even as they shift positions even as they
thin to ones and twos to corner to pass
through and around the narrow places.
At busy intersections they run without
moving pant to a steady driving heartbeat
that is older than the ground the maples
spreading overhead the fire station the
supermarket cigar store donut shop where
fresh coffee waits and there are bathrooms.
Adding your comment:
a good poem, that - makes people think you are great at writing when you are not. 
