The last drops of a steady spring-time rain, all through the night.
My songbird coming and going, singing and calling, returning.
Deep, rich, elixer. And a cup of coffee.
First reading: A Psalm of praise and reflection on the works of Juana Inéz de la Cruz.
First words: “Oh, God. Please.”
First steps: Toward the kitchen, straight, easy, filled with gratitude. Grandad’s cane? Where did I leave it?
Clock: Keeping time to itself. All wound up for nothing.
Thank you for another day . . .
Photograph “Resting, she holds her secrets.” © 2109 Timothy Waugh