Morning Run
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Out for a morning run.
I pass the open market
and see old man Crockett,
his cheeks work-worn scarlet.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Out for a morning run.
Max the cat, sits, blinking
at his world through twinkling
light. What is he thinking?
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Out for a morning run.
A dancing bay otter
churns the bright water,
playing teeter totter.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Out for a morning run.
Suddenly I spot her
Rose, fisherman’s daughter,
My warm cheeks burn hotter.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Out for a morning run.
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