I don’t like to run in the morning

6am. Even the masters have yet to stir in their sleep, sheets
Turned away from us, not watching our lolling pink tongues
Lick the gleaming dark boots of morning air. We, all
Shepherd dogs, herd the slow lazy cattle of time.
Every morning minute drags is feet and stop if we no longer
Nip at their heels. We can only hear the heavy footfall and
Damp breathing before a figure darts past us into the dark
Yawning ahead of us. We are left in our circular loneliness.

6am. It is too early to be running even the sweat glands
Are out of service.