the chase

I had thought
in the clear dark
of my morning run
I could contemplate
the corked Autumn moon

Yet the higher I climbed
the deeper she dove
low behind the frozen trees
And when I turned right
deftly she banked left
defying my measured advance
with admonishing glee

Stop! she finally laughed
in frosty exasperation
You silly, searching fool:
I will only be still for he
who is still for me