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.
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.