Morning

Time is illusory. Buzzing sounds of full-blown life have yet to roar in the afternoon. All senses are trascendent and quiet.

A lawn mower working off in the distance sends me aromas of sweet grass. The faint squeaking of a playground swing dances memories of youth into my imagination. A sharp thrill of a red winged blackbird cuts its way across a ruffled lake. The tinkering music of wind chimes in the billowy breeze greets the new day.

The sun spans and stretches her arms up into the azure sky as if she just rolled out of bed. Light, crisp air tantalizes my skin prodding me to stretch with the sun.

As I glance around, my eyes set upon a clock. Obligations check off with each tick-tock. I make my way toward the shower to rinse away this illusion of serenity.