Archive 07/05/09 - (2)

   

Rhythms

                                                                  

At ten o'clock, this quiet Sunday morning,

While taking a relaxed walk through downtown,

In red shorts, white socks, blue running shoes,

My bare chest absorbing the warmth,

I notice everything's closed, save the Presbyterian church,

Ole's Country Store, Rose's Bakery, Bridge's Tavern.

 

Two enterprising seagulls are cleaning up the streets,

Feasting on a smorgasbord of July Fourth's leftovers.

I stop at the auditorium door,

To read the posted winners and times of yesterday's race,

Then resume my leisurely pace, going, going.

The village's peaceful rhythms own me.

 

 

                    

 

 

 

                                               

 

07/05/09 - (2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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