Exquisite torments merge in morning thoughts before I wake.
All tagged morning
Exquisite torments merge in morning thoughts before I wake.
A howl near my head. I resist waking, my mind reaching for wisps of dreams.
I pulled on jeans and a soft sweatshirt and stepped out of the camper into the cool morning. Mist kissed my cheeks, chilled my hands.
“Alexa,” I call out. “Set the timer for five minutes!”
My 77-year-old mother and I have a system: She texts me an emoji every morning when she wakes to let me know she's alive, and I text one back as a receipt.
After I'd eaten breakfast, I went outside. It was cool, the sun earnest but dew still dampening the grass.
I fill the trough with feed and the sisters rustle and squawk and flap their landlocked wings. A few black-and-white feathers go flying over the shed beams.
Head Adderall-cleansed, tea on the coffee table, should be called the tea table, haven’t been allowed coffee since my stomach said no.
I had one of those trendy layered haircuts common in the ’80s, but it required precise curling every morning.
My son and I, we’ve been to so many doctors together. We had to go to several every week when he was little to try to get him better.
Monday morning 5 train’s long tunnel to Brooklyn. The commuters’ glum affect reflects the drudge of a new work week.
I took my coffee to the porch overlooking the Strait of Belle Isle in northern Newfoundland. The early morning fog lifted to the sound of gulls, crows, and a fox sparrow.
Before starting my morning ritual, I wipe down the counters. Greasy streaks snake across the countertops, evidence of my husband’s effort to clean up the kitchen the night before.
The windows are wet with dawn. My windshield wipers are old and leave streaks that make me regret my attempt at clarity.
Bus-stop hung like bee-hive over sleepy township. Two women and I, five junior school kids, someone’s grandpa. The girls, careful of their gait, ironed-skirt pleats. Boys, throwing sand over each other’s shoes.
I inhaled the rich scent and lifted the mug to my lips. With every sip I felt the day brighten a little more.