Morning

Hardwood underfoot
the east windows of the small house exude dim light.
the night is retreating slowly, sleep its faithful companion.
The kettle waits on the stove, and the mixture of tea, milk, and sugar greet me warmly.
Cool air streams through the window; moisture hovers in the yard.

It is time to turn off the porch light, the faithful night watch security guard.
It is time to peek out the window, to see if anything on the street has changed.
And when it hasn't, when everything is the same today as it was yesterday,
I turn on the radio, make a nice breakfast, and think about the world.