Spring, March 21st, 2017

Early morning and I lie in bed

Awake yet still in between

Two worlds

That of dreams and that of

Birds

Singing outside

Celebrating the coming of a new day

By their joyful twittering.

I get up

Put the kettle on

And walk into the brisk cold outside,

Barefoot.

A frosty breeze tickles all my senses

I bend my head backwards

And welcome the day on my skin

As each part of my body shivers

At the touch of the rising sun.

The cold bites reminds me

That I can feel and I’m alive,

Still.

The whistle of the kettle has stopped.

So have the birds.

I walk in, silently, followed by the sun.

I pour the tea high,

Rejoicing in the sound of water

Falling into the cup.

Holding it against my chin,

I face the sun again and warm up,

As the sky lights up red.

Body and soul, reunited.

The billowing steam rises above the cup

In a beautiful scented dance.

This is a new day.

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