Birds of a Feather

Mornings, there is nothing like them. No matter how much despair and angst I take to bed with me, the morning comes and with it a fresh sense of hopefulness and possibility. The morning energy freshens my resolve and sparks my imagination.

Though I came out to read I find myself looking away from the pages of my book and instead taking in the colours, sounds, and smells that surround me in the garden. And I am thankful for this refuge, sanctuary of sorts.

Until the sun comes over the trees... it is cool enough to sip my coffee lingeringly. In the quiet of the morning I listen to the birds chattering and greeting me with their morning song. They too are morning creatures like me. Birds of a feather. 

I don't want the morning to end. I want to sit here and savour its possibilities.

A gentle breeze, still fresh before the heat of the later day sun, brushes over me and I inhale deeply catching the scents of basil, bee balm and thyme. The gentle wind creates a harmony of sounds in the rustling of the leaves .. soft whispers. Somewhere high up the cicadas high pitched warning of the heat moving in.

I remind myself that morning will come again.

Camouflage - how many birds can you count?