Such mornings are these-
a long slow blur from eyes opening to take in blue sky, a breeze lifting the curtain and soothing the face. And drift back, curled into my partner again, a warm tangle of legs.
The breeze blows me out of bed and in the bathroom, the water I splash on my face is heading under the city to the lake.
I tumble outside to spray water from the mountainside on my garden. Strawberries, endive, cilantro, they are surrounded by wild mint, yarrow, vetch.
As the day pulls me downtown, I pass striped cats in frame-less windows and walls of drooping hydrangea.
A stranger says hello and a funeral procession travels in scattered bursts out of town. At a coffee shop, I am letting the day and I catch up to each other, a long slow blur of blue sky.