The Temperature of Morning

The sound of morning arriving is always quiet. While the window turns from dim to slowly bright, yesterday's heavy words seep into the air. Even the worry I held all night looks a little lighter before the morning light. While the coffee drips, I wash my hands. The fingertips touched by cold water feel vivid. That sensation passes quietly, like proof that today has begun. Not everything has been put in order yet. But we have as much time as it takes to breathe slowly. In that time the sun rises, sets again, and morning comes once more.