Eight a.m.

Grey skies, cool breeze
just light enough to avoid
a “Quiche Lorraine” kind of day

The birds are oblivious to such concerns
tweeting, twittering, and chirping away
as they do

The sounds of the creek
though muffled by the thicket of green along its banks
are present, as always

Traffic is awakening now
cars softly whoosh as they pass by
then fall silent

I feel a slight chill
as I take in the muted colours—
time to go back inside

But the fresh air felt good

 

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(22 June 2019, Hour 3)