For my health and for my writing practice, I walk a mile at an outdoor track five days a week. I greet a triangular-shaped pecan tree at one end of the track. “Good morning, tree.” Pink and blue morning glories peek through the fence. They wend their way into a haiku. One day this week, I am startled to see brown fur on short legs scampering through the grass. The fellow ducked under a storm drain cover and peered at me. It seems he wanted to be in a poem, too. Click here to read “Groundhog Day in August.” Please register at the top, right-hand side of this page if you haven’t already. We promise not to share your email address. Happy writing!