Up early, sun barely stretching over trees.

Warm water rolls down my back. 

My pants don’t fit right. 

The house is quiet, all to myself. 

Everyone else sleeps. 

Birds chirping insesently

Dull hum of air conditioners? 

These are my mornings short moments of time,

stitched together like a poorly made patchwork quilt. 

This morning is slow, and I so grateful for that.