Back Porch Good Morning

 

Sensuous aroma of coffee wakes me.

Black smoothness, warm, delicious.

I can feel it, hot, going down.

 

Sunlight pierces my eyelids,

familiar stab, hinting at the coming migraine.

Careful.

I clench my eyes shut

and turn my chair away from the rays.

Better now.

 

Seeing without looking,

I know the trees are happy.

How could they not be happy,

with a thousand trills of birdsong in their hair?

 

The gardenia is showing off again,

smiling from every blossom,

though I cannot see them from here.

There’s no fragrance quite like gardenia

mixed with morning dew.

Gardenias never travel incognito.

 

And Shisa’s here, pressing

her warm muzzle into my hand,

saying good morning and that

she still loves me.

Eyes still closed, I bend and kiss

the top of her orange head

while she licks my fingers.

We both enjoy a small brain squishy,

then she wanders off the porch to the grass,

heeding Mother Nature’s call.

 

I put my bright blue coffee mug down

on the white plastic table and stretch –

a long, delicious, gentle stretch –

arms out, legs out.

I could stretch a mile,

but I’d hate to have to walk back.

I settle for half a mile.

 

Then I reach for my black-and-white plaid journal

and my pen.

Open it to where the green ribbon is.

 

And the day has officially begun.

 

It’s going to be a good one.

 

I can sense it.