Rising early with the breath of day,
shoes still soaked with yesterday's rain,
socks sopping it up.
I like to take my bicycle rides early,
to be among the first arrivals on the levee,
the sunlight just beginning to lean against the trees.
My company includes a bunch of swamp rabbits,
grazing in the sparkling grass, taking no notice of me,
other than to turn one ear my way.
Farther down, a mating pair of red-shouldered hawks,
perched atop a navigational marker as it were a citadel,
keeping vigilantly their river kingdom.
Among the bright array of detergent jugs and Coke bottles
washed up by the recent high water,
even brighter still a flock of wood ducks,
the red-eyed drake and the moon-eyed mama duck,
her ducklings lagging behind, still lacking their full plumage.
Stalking through the tall grass, a great blue
heron heaves a snapping crawfish from its mudhole.
He shakes his slender neck and the crawfish
reduces into segments, which the heron quickly snatches.
Here and there beside the path, explosions of cowbirds,
the last few drops of night evaporating in the daylight.
Yes, I like to take my bicycle rides early,
to see and know how many other lives are going on without me.