Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.
Richard Wilbur, Collected Poems, 1943-2004
I’m outside with Maya just after 4:00 a.m. It’s still, and just starting to get light; the morning air is fresh and cool. It’s a peaceful and promising start to the day.
We have an agreement when Gerry is away, she and I. No middle-of-the-night potty time in exchange for a restful night’s sleep and an early waking time for both of us. It works well and I appreciate her cooperation in this.
The early morning has always been my favourite part of the day, so I don’t mind when Maya does a careful, and extensive, scent-sweep of the front lawn seeking the perfect place for her morning business—then repeats the exercise a few more times.
As I wait, the silence is sweetly broken with birdsong; they’re waking and greeting the day. Maya, oblivious to the morning music finally decides she’s ready to go back indoors and turns runs toward me.
I give her a treat and she returns to bed while I prepare a cup of soy milky frothy coffee. I step out on the deck with my mug and listen to the morning music for a few minutes then, too, return to my nest in the bedroom.
I pull back the curtains, open the door, and settle back into my bed to read and write, blessed in these peaceful moments. Maya snores softly beside me and, outside my window, the birds greet one another and gently welcome the day.
And all is well.