Good morning.

 

In the morning, I find myself, over and over again - or maybe I find myself anew.  Maybe, each day, I am a different person, just born out of sleep and dreams.  I never tire of the mornings, even when I am tired.  Sleep does not come easily for me but mornings do.  Possibility is alive and percolating, like a morning cup of coffee.  Dark and rich and hot - until the sun rises.  I am usually awake then.  It is rare that the sun rises before I do.  Afterwards, I can sometimes go back to sleep.  I have witnessed the dawn of another day and am content.  I made it this far….