Morning air fans my face
as I peddle down the path,
gravel and sand spitting
from the tires, sliding on
curves. An opossum
waddles back into bushes,
and a great blue heron, fishing,
unfolds huge wings and flaps
slowly, queenlike over the water.
Mother and fawn glare and bolt,
and bunnies scamper in fear
over dewy grass. I have
disturbed their morning;
they have made mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment