Tuesday, August 23, 2011

before the day begins.

I love early mornings. The intimate feeling of meeting with the sun before the rest of the world. The flirty, slight bits of light that precede the boom and majesty of the day. There is a tree outside my window, and most mornings I lay staring through my window, through my screen at it. I watch its leaves and its branches move, giving shape to the breeze. I love coffee and bike rides and really really good books, but early mornings, those I love the most because no matter how many others may feel it is theirs, I know that it is my own.

This particular morning, I am listening to this:

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