Ode to an Overcast Morning

As I wake to the muted light, I feel

the plush fibers of my blanket caress

my legs. Slowly, I cast off the surreal

film of sleep, arise and the day address.

I start by tracing the well traveled route

down the hall to the coffee pot. I hold

the smooth plastic handle and pull out

the basket full of wet grounds that are old.

With a new pot of coffee brewing, I

let my gaze wander to the French doors. With

light still filtering in through the clouds. Spry

is the little bird outside eating pith.

The foggy morning is a Devine treat.

Warm coffee mug between my hands, complete.