{"id":111778,"date":"2022-06-25T15:45:14","date_gmt":"2022-06-25T19:45:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/?p=111778"},"modified":"2022-06-25T15:50:46","modified_gmt":"2022-06-25T19:50:46","slug":"prompt-6-mid-morning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2022\/06\/prompt-6-mid-morning\/","title":{"rendered":"Prompt 7, Mid-Morning"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-111808\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-225x300.jpg 225w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-768x1024.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-1536x2048.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/City-Market-morning-scaled.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 225px) 100vw, 225px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Birds practice their plaintive twitching for crumbs and scatter<br \/>\nlike dive bombers<br \/>\nas I toss pinhead size morsels of my breakfast burrito shell<br \/>\njust beyond the perimeter.<\/p>\n<p>More and more, the city market morning feels<br \/>\nlike the calm before an indefinite storm.<br \/>\nMy day is divided into specific slots. Even<br \/>\nunder the glaring sun of the deepening morning, I still<br \/>\nhave a breeze of hope that I can recalibrate those slots<br \/>\nso they&#8217;re fused into one unfettered day.<\/p>\n<p>I close my eyes to absorb the smell of the smoke from<br \/>\nthe coffee being roasted next door, and the myriad sounds of the market itself<br \/>\n&#8211;\u00a0 the vendors, the streetcar bell, and the birds chirping as they swoop<br \/>\nand echo under the stalls &#8211; and gather myself for the commute.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; Birds practice their plaintive twitching for crumbs and scatter like dive bombers as I toss pinhead size morsels of my breakfast burrito shell just beyond the perimeter. More and more, the city market morning feels like the calm before an indefinite storm. My day&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":59,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111778","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111778","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/59"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=111778"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111778\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":112443,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111778\/revisions\/112443"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=111778"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=111778"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=111778"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}