She rests there, hunched and frowning
Wrinkles supporting smile lines
Or tear path grooves.
Crooked fingers trace the running
Raindrop paths down musty screened panes
Of storm cloud gray.
A flash of color jogging by
Leg twitches in involuntary muscle memory
Like the runner in the rain.
“I used to dance in the rain,” She sighs
Machine beep sighs
Wishing for rewind to life or fast forward to death.
-Or heaven, a place where the spirit never sits confined
To wrinkle-lined faces
Beeping machine bodies
As runners dance in sky water beyond tracing window fingers.