Friday, July 25, 2014
The morning wakes slowly, with small dark sounds that fill and swell with the promise of a new day. It starts off shyly. A few car doors. A gentle good morning whispered between neighbors. The call of birds, rallying the world with their chirpful cries. Morning is what you make of it. Me? I imagine that the trees are the conductors, guiding the morning toward an evening crescendo.
Posted by JD Mader at 11:30 AM
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It paints a lively picture.ReplyDelete
Gummed up eyes filter my world as my hesitant feet stumble out of bed. The weather's blessedly cooler and I greet our mewling adolescent felines as they wind about me, urging me downstairs, keen to be fed. Another day in the life of a British male begins.ReplyDelete
Good day, folks!
Good day, indeed. :)Delete