He runs;
early enough to hear the imam’s call
high in the mosque’s minaret.

Feet pounding tar,
he passes catholic schoolgirls
getting off a bus
outside the convent.

His breath steaming,
he trots by pious men with earlocks
walking slowly, in pairs
to the Chester road synagogue.

He thinks of tolerance,
then gives it up
to contemplate toast.

©Cindy Taylor 2009


14 Comments Add yours

  1. granny1947 says:

    I just love this…must give it a try!

  2. theonlycin says:

    I expect great things!

  3. Very well done Cindy. It captured me.

  4. colonialist says:

    I ran back through the blog with enjoyment.

    Of course, I simply love the Subject. Funny, I also used the word ‘running’ for adianoeta recently…

    1. theonlycin says:

      Isn’t that ironic 😉

  5. opoetoo says:

    Perfect capture with no word wasted.

  6. Lyndatjie says:

    If only a lot more people would start jogging so that they can open their eyes and see the differences and how well it works.

  7. slpmartin says:

    The ending of the poem sets the true tone of the poem and the unfortunate usual duration for the consideration of tolerance.

  8. nrhatch says:

    Love how he embraces the religious diversity without breaking stride . . . and then turns his attention to the breakfast waiting for him at home.


  9. Adeeyoyo says:

    Brilliant, Cin. We drop all weighty considerations for the mundane – so much easier on the brain! 🙂

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