The squawk of a pheasant to the south, the filtering of light in my window pane, a new day begun.
Like all days, today started as freshly pressed cotton, the night a memory wrapped up in summer scented dewy grass, freckled by the opening heads of sleepy dandelions and white laundered daisies.
Crawling from beneath the covers and joining the rest of the woken world, my grumped up body did its thing beneath rays of succulent warmth. Today, my first day reacquainted with my garden bench. Its steel frame curling itself around me, steadying my rocking ship.
Should anyone come knocking during the remainder of spring and into long summer nights, i’ll be found outdoors, just follow the sun.