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
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