It is still dark outside

I open the front door

And bid the mystery of a newborn day to come, enter

Like a languorous black cat

A puddle dripping shadow

The scent of damp grass

Earth

and composting leaves

slide into my being

I breathe deep of the chill soft air

Stamp impatiently

Take a headtorch from the cupboard

And begin

Because this life is fleeting

No need to wait

The sun will greet me later

When I am miles from home

And it won’t be surprised

It knows

Even when it lurked below the horizon

I’d be up already

Waiting to begin

I think the sun likes the ones

Who never sleep in

Who are busy being done

Because in all its revolutions

It knows

Life is fleeting

Run

Header photo: yesterday’s photo – it’s a phone snap – limitations come with portability. Brolgas heading east. Why? Then again, the beach is East, I would go too, but Brolgas don’t like the beach and after awhile I have to admit – there are too many people there. No wonder they return.

Nothing is better than my mornings spent among the waist high grass watching the sky change colour and always, always absorbing nature as if I can bundle it all up and release it later with a sigh.