Had a (nowadays, rare) creative spark on the Rivanna Trail today – this little bit just popped into my head (since edited, of course, for rhythmic and other considerations):
I run sideways-striding.
The slope is banked, so at the crux where grass and highway meet, the world turns, and by so turning spills me towards the trail.
If afterlife is real, I need no more than this – an endless wood, the sound of feet on leaves, the mist that cools the creases of my knees.
A. Y. Chen 