On The Golf Course At Dawn

On the golf course at dawn:
No one else but groundskeepers raking bunkers
and the red-orange fox’s fur
reflecting the sun.
Dew still dressing the greens.
After my ball glides past the hole,
I still see its path through the dew.
Crisp contentment in the air.
Quiet. A more than decent life.

poem by S. Michael Kozubek
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!