I run in the morning

I run in the morning

I run in the morning

face to face with the sun

rising out of bed

sometimes bleary-eyed and in a fog

hung-over from a long trip across the ocean

or bright-eyed and bushy-tailed

rip-roarin’ to go

full blazes

I turn

and the sun clocks me and my silent partner

(who’s a little slow in the winter

but manages to catch up in the summer)

as we seize the moment

and sprint between dawn and what the day holds

noticing the latter chase the former

or at least tag along behind it

I turn away

and the sun pores over my back

like a steadfast lover drinking in my every move

while time takes a nap

and my breath dissolves centuries of asceticism

preaching dust to dust

as my spirit ruach becomes flesh

and my flesh becomes fluid

I turn again

and the sun completes its orbit around me

a planet of salt water and vapor

and makes me for one exhilarating instant

this final stretch

this last leg

the center of its universe

I lap it up