Morning Routine 

Mile stretch, the name requires no explanation

it stretches. 

The constant repetitious weave 

in and out of 

cyclists

joggers 

old-timer walkers.

My impatience grows 

or is it just 7 a.m.?

The smell drifts in, 

it’s close 

maybe if I roll the window down 

I can guess the size of the surf 

from the magnitude of the roar. 

– a coffee, the beach, 

the day has begun.