Snow Pond

The sun came tapping on my window early this morning and like an unwilling passenger on a journey about to end I tried to wrap myself in the last strains of sleep. But the allure of a misty morning and a cool lake led me tiptoeing through the wickedly wet grass, offering myself up as a human sacrifice to a million gleeful mosquitoes. Every once in a while a forgetful bullfrog will bust into song, mistaking the morning for the dusk. And silently, as the world hung choosing between night and daybreak, I slipped back into my bed after welcoming the dawn.



I hear the chickens waking as they begin to muse among themselves at the coming of daybreak. Bird song begins to drip from trees as the sunlight plays among the branches to dapple my wall. Good morning world, I think into my pillow, cocooned in my bed, sleepy eyelids drifting shut.