Category: Run Haiku

Low clouds
Catching the early light
Counting our days

Silent morning
The first touch of
The sun’s warmth

Brown back
Of the whitetail whispers
Through the trees

Hints of cedar, pine

Smooth freshwater finish

Taste of a trail

Little striped stinker
Permitted to go
Any pace he likes

The wheels on the bike
Going round and round and round
All through the town

Sharing pace
And laps
And smiles

Has the summer
Air ever felt
So young

Fresh blacktop
Ditches bursting
With colour

The wind
Under the bill of my hat
Threatening flight