Morning Run-sonnet

       There is nothing like an early quick run.  The way the mist rolls off the cool ground.  Running quickly to beat the sun.  Feet move so gracefully and softly pound.  Admiring nature's wondrous bright sights.  Pasing an old tall maple wood tree.  Seeing birds flying high in the sky in mid-flight.  Looking over the expansive sea.  Out on the shore, lots of cool white sea foam.  As my run nears end, it's time to go home.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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