A morning moon slips silently into the southwestern sky as the day begins its chilly sojourn. I am reminded of my usual thoughts that the sun merely teases us with its glowing good-day accolades, considering the accompanying wind chill warning forecast across the province today. It is a frosty Sunday morning – too early in most respects and not early enough in others – and although the warmth of the bed held me until seven, my words called to me, and I claimed the day for mine. Determined to write as many words as possible and work on some other standing projects, I rouse my muse. The floor is cold upon my feet.
The aromatic awakening of coffee filters from the kitchen as I plot my morning journey distracted only by the beauty of the night’s heralder slowly retreating for another day. The fading globe will soon be devoured by the horizon but gives in honorably as it succumbs to the magic of its daily rival. The moon is my watcher but I happily bid farewell, knowing that after a long day, it will return to greet me again in the night.
A short break to retrieve my favorite cobalt blue mug with my favorite vanilla flavored comfort takes me from the page for but a moment and, upon return, my writing day begins.