This morning, a little brown bunny hops across the dewy grass. Robins scoot, heads down in the lawn, plucking worms. Birds sing outside our closed windows; it’s too chilly this morning to open them.
This morning, Tubbles lays across my arms as I write. She whacks me with her tail and looks at me sideways. She would rather I pet her than scrape words on paper. She pushes against my writing arm with her back feet. When I scratch her cheeks, she purrs.
This morning I hear the clock tick on the living room wall. I hear our daughter brush her teeth behind her bathroom door. She and our son both have math exams today. This is their last week of school. This is our son’s last week of high school.
This morning the sky is fresh and blue with a lone long cloud, thin and flat like a fish filet. Our neighborhood street is still in shadow, but the green treetops are bathed in the new day’s golden light. Sunrise is earlier and earlier each day; this morning it rose at 6:18am. It will set at 8:18pm. Today we’ll have fourteen hours of light, plus a little extra on either side of sunrise and sunset. In Iceland, where will be in a little over two weeks, the sun rose at 4:29am today and will set at 10:17pm. Eighteen hours of daylight.
This morning I ate blueberry crisp for breakfast. I drank coffee while I worked the Wordle. I made extra for our daughter who likes to drink iced coffee in the morning before school.
This morning I didn’t know what to write about, so I wrote about this morning.
Butterfly Mind 