April Mornings

The curtains flutter as a pocket of wind comes in wisps.

The smell of freshly cut grass and the rain

wafts into the room.

A bird chirps his morning song

as the sun breaks through a crack in the sky.

I stretch, feeling the night slide off me.

I lick my paws as I do every dawn

preparing for the lazy day ahead.

I smell fresh coffee from the kitchen,

the sign that my human is up.

Slinking from the back of the couch

to the seat,

I scratch at a pillow to fluff it.

Laying down I curl my tail around me

to keep warm.

My human sits next to me, coffee in hand.

She turns and smiles at me.

I meow back to her, saying good morning.

She reaches over to me and pets me softly.

I love Sunday mornings in April.