(a rough draft, oh and be kind, I haven't had a poetic thought in a very long time)
Alarm blasts me out of peaceful sleep
and my arms, legs stumble
pull on clothes and shoes.
I tiptoe out the door
into the cool, fresh air.
My legs carry me down one hill,
past houses that sit sleepily,
and up another,
my feet hit the pavement in rhythm.
Deer in the field pick up their heads,
their ears perk up,
waiting to see
if I am a threat.
Fluffy white tail flicks as agile legs carry them over
the fence and closer to the river.
The sun is my only companion now,
it's pink and yellow eases over
eastern peaks, squeezes through
clouds and melts down into the sleeping valley.
I breath in deeply the new air,
my body is waking up, muscles are warmer and eyes brighter.
I hear a slow flapping above me,
it is a grey heron, his long legs tucked tightly
into his body. He pays me no mind
just flaps slowly and strongly towards the river.
As he passes, I see a small thing flittering
around the fence--a flash of yellow,
then, the song.
Montana's bird fills the morning with its song
and I smile.
Rewards for waking with the dawn
to run are great
when God's creatures appear
to sing, flap and flick
their good mornings'.