Morning run

Sleepy eye beats the alarm,
fills up, sets up, dresses up, laces up, steps out
into the empty streets
stalked by pale morning cats,
past “why do I do this?”,
through “how can I do this?”
to the misty river’s edge
where single sculls dip and glide.

Along the silent white ribbon
drifts of autumn leaves return to the trees of spring,
reluctant legs pass
dogs walk women walk men walk dogs
and jog the first bridge into view,
beams grey with waiting
for trains,
for paint,
for the sun.

Mind numb now with
pacing, pushing, passing, panting
breathless “morning!”
soft “hello!”
to fellow footmen of the dawn,
fading into an unequilibrium
of stubbornness and pain
until the next bridge girds itself …
with sunlight.

Oh!
The glare and warm of sunlight still young as the day.
Rebirth, salvation,
largesse of quickening light!

And so with the sun
run
in easy homeward strides.