In the morning, I get up early and go out
while I can still hear the grass and earth crunching
into the world where I can find my thoughts.

All the paths lead to the look out on the peak,
and I head there in a meandering sort of way.
In the morning, I get up early and go out

to listen to a coyote who woke up alone and is calling
now for her friends. It's funny that I've gone
into the world where I can find my thoughts

only to find her thoughts, and I'm pining for her,
with her, until she stops suddenly, and I miss her.
In the morning, I get up early and go out

before even the garbage man has started his route.
He's drinking coffee now, about to go out by himself
into the world. Where I can find my thoughts

I stop for a moment. They're not profound, or wise, or even
interesting, but they're alone, completely alone.
In the morning, I get up early and go out
Into the world where I can find my thoughts.

About the poet: John Brantingham has published nearly a hundred poems in magazines in the United States and England, including The Journal, Tears in the Fence, Pearl Magazine, and The Chiron Review. Garrison Keillor recently read one of his poems on The Writer's Almanac. He was nominated for a Pushcart prize for one of the poems in his chapbook, Putting in a Window, published by Finishing Line Press.