The man
Who
Runs around
The block
Six times
Every
Morning
Passes,
His feet
Lifting
In a
Weary jog,
His fists
Bouncing
On his
Chest,
His gaunt
Face
Determined.
He is
Followed
By the
Short fellow
With two
Mismatched
Dogs
Who trot
Precisely
In step,
Then the
Woman who
Talks rapidly
On the
Phone
Hurries by,
Eyes downcast,
Oblivious
To everything.
I drink
My tea,
And salute
The sunny
Day.