Morning on Capital Crescent Trail - Washington D.C.

A roller blader

Swishes around me.

Close on his heels 
(Or rather, on his wheels) 
A bicyclist circles past, 
Cutting a wide swath, 
Followed by a jogger 
Lean and tall. 
Youthful, all – everyone 

Except me. 
Out of my class, 

Old and slow. 

Suck in stomach muscles 
Just to show 
That I too am fit; 
I too am hale; 
I too am worthy 
Of the Crescent Trail. 

Around a bend 

Yet another jogger comes. 
Older 
Fatter. 
Approaches with jowls jiggling 
Like jelly. 
Jelly-jiggling jowls. 
And what’s more, 
He leads with his belly. 

Footfalls pounding, 
A woman on the run 
Pushes a baby stroller 
Fast in front of her. 
The boy child 
Buckled securely there 
Bounces in his sleep 
And dances unaware 
A wild fandango. 

Next: three hefty women.
Flesh-wobbling women, all three
Amateurs, at a glance I can see

Who know nothing of

Power-walking regimen,

But chatter and chatter,

Thinking it doesn’t matter

That their unsupported bosoms

Bobble and dance.

On this erstwhile railroad site,

I see now a tunnel loom.
Its bricks, black with age,
Prophesy age’s ultimate doom.

I shiver and look up high.

Are those vampire bats

Hanging there from ceiling’s arch?

Or is it just the absurdity

Of my imagination’s perfidy?

Back in daylight again,

I see that the sun,
Through leaves of the trees,

Is strewing lacy shadows

Across my path.

And the morning breeze

Cleaned fresh by last night’s rain,

Stirs a Muse of sorts

Within my brain.

O, Muse

Hark, then!

This shall I do:

I shall make a poem for you.

I shall write it now,

Quickly,

Without fail,

And I shall call it

Morning on Capital Crescent Trail