The playground hadn’t opened;
The
sun had yet to rise
And
many might think walking
In
the dark would not be wise.
A
mist hung by the river,
A
tugboat pulled a barge;
The
cars inched down the F.D.R.,
Their
headlights looming large.
The
puddles, partly hidden,
Glinted
dully in the gloom,
Soon
to saturate some sneakers
Not
expecting them to loom.
It
was magic to be walking;
The
few others I did see
Were
the regulars who love
Their
early exercise, like me.
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