Night out

You go out dressed to the nines
Newly dyed hair
Make up perfect
Your left ankle still dirty
From the run in the woods
It betrays you
Perfect line of eyeliner
Perfect bud of lips in red
Perfect nails, gelled on
And then
Your left ankle
Dusted with sand
And the rhythm of your feet
On the dried out pathways
Where in the winter
You battle mud
You are no model
You are not beautiful
You are not perfect
But you are in love
With life
Lived out in running