Morning Commute Â by Sara Cavin, Project Manager
Early on, a tawny form paused in the road,
Her big ears and eyes taking me in;
A smaller version of the same, this one with spots, followed her across.
Picking up their pace, the pair bounded
Halfway into the field,
Bending toward the Ompomp.
Cresting a hill, a tiny orange body â€“
This one luckier than most that venture where tires tread â€“
Balances delicately on amphibian toes
Before being gently guided into the roadside weeds.
Mourning doves flush into the trees
On twittering wings.
Sharing â€œGood morningâ€™sâ€ with a gentleman
Collecting the paper,
I continue on, as the road descends.
The flock of Jacobs stays bedded down
In the dew;
Their quiet repose will balance
The determined grazing of the afternoon.
A pickup passes;
We two travelers exchange the few-fingered wave
As is the classy manner
On rural roads.
Into the fog, the bit of chill gains
As I reach the steam source, the River;
The mirage of the mist
Waved away by a single scullâ€™s blades.
I find the bleary-eyed H Croo,
Adding bodies to the parade on Ledyard Bridge;
Surely weary, but they are welcoming
This morning, with smiles.
Weaving ever-cautiously through town,
I reach the office above Mink Brook.
Ready to settle in to the day,
I just have to reflect on the neighbors I saw on the way.
Oh, nice, Pete rode in too!
And he has left just enough coffee
In the pot that Amber made,
So I can pour a mug and warm my tingling fingers.