10 July 2017


Mornings like these.
It is the weekend and I am sitting at my small round, white table that makes me think I am in a cosy cafe sipping coffee. Well, I am sipping coffee, made by this in-house barista. These morning hours are when I am most reflective, and I try to indulge as much as possible. It is the weekend, so I let my thoughts wander. I let words meld out of these delicate, quiet hours of a summer morning.
I love how the landscape wakes up, with misty or dewy beginnings. A refreshment after sun-drenched days. A cycle of strain and restoring. 

Glistening morning sun
reflecting off dew-filled windows,
arguments of space
persist in the trees, like willows,
arching outward to claim the air.

The sunscape casts shadows
in these still, early hours,
details of which melt away by noon,
this isn't early June,
but the depths of summer heatwaves.

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