Early Morning

A poem I wrote about a poetic moment for one of my classes.

I ride my bike home

after an early morning shift;

campus is still quiet,

as my bike clicks and creaks,

scaring the occasional rabbit away;

the sky is gradually lightening

from black

to navy

to a steel gray blue

that blankets the trees, paths,

buildings where people are just starting work -

the scent of baked goods and powder sugar

wafts out from the dining hall,

the garbage truck and delivery truck

rumble and beep in the distance;

the shadows of my bike

dance together

in the light of the streetlamps

as I continue to ride

to home

and a warm bed