Waking In The Morning

The morning after my first night at the jazz festival, I cut through Ann Arbor and away from the north side of town, driving along the Huron Parkway Prarie, cattails in the middle. In the space of a mile I've seen six or seven joggers, people biking with their little children in tow, some orange construction barrels. Trees abound. I pass a high school, a recreation area, expensive cars, more trees. The sky is blue, clouds are scant, sun is shining. Now I'm going over a bridge over the Huron River. From this elevation I see the sun iridescent on the water. The water opaque in the sunshine almost. I pass a golf course, most people finished with their early morning rounds. There's a lone golfer walking on a path. I wonder if he is that unskilled, or just woke up late. Another jogger. Greenery, greenery, trees, greenery. I'm driving slow, enjoying, taking in the morning.