The Temperature of Morning
To you The morning air had cooled, though not to cold. Sitting by the window with my coffee, I suddenly missed you. On a day like today, what kind of day are you beginning? Among all the people walking with their heads down, I've grown a habit of looking for the one unusually bright smile. It's all right if that smile isn't meant for me. I'd just like it near, like morning sunlight. Maybe today you could walk somewhere slowly. A day with no appointments, simply walking toward wherever the wind is blowing. One small scene you meet along the way might have a story to tell us. You don't have to decide on an answer. Only, now and then, remember this one thing: that I'd like to share your mornings.
Sitting on the bench wet from yesterday's rain, I watched the coffee beside me grow cold. A couple of sparrows outside the window peck at the ground, then flutter off.