Monthly Archives: August 2017

This Morning

This morning I was up before the river.

Her misty bed clothes were tucked, still snug, into her banks

although a few slipped, untidily, across the road.

My tires flicked them away.

Shadows stretched

long

away from the golden cheer of the sun

as if to linger a few moments longer

like the river.

The world was still rousing herself, drowsy and sluggish

but this morning I was out before the river.

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