The birds have long since resumed their daysong as the sun now streams through the screen window and sets my bedroom to a gentle bake. It’s not the most comfortable of accommodations, but I manage to stumble across any ready excuse to not move a muscle in my sleep-addled body.

When laying still you can listen carefully: the sound of the breeze is moving past your eyes from this second floor vantage point. The warm presence currently subletting this platform of repose is far too comfortable to merit disturbance from my movement, and surely there is no coffee downstairs- all French pressed up and clamoring for my attention. No, I’ll stay here a bit longer with nature’s materials at my easy disposal.

It’s a sign that you’re in a good place when you are hesitant to inaugurate the rituals that comprise your final day’s task list. You don’t want to start the clock, because you know that as soon as your feet are placed on the floor, it’s too late. You’ve begun the process of removing yourself from your temporary sejour. Other obligations are out there- facts of life that, while cheerful, do not compare to the welcome respite that comes with quality time spent occupying this space.

The sharp technicolor of a July morning will surely remain in my heart and mind, long after my morning has gained momentum and I’m making my way down the landward side of the eastern seaboard.

It’s all going to happen and it’s all going to be okay.

But for these next couple of seconds- moments spent attending to absolute morning silence- I’ll honor myself and this place by being present in these lingering moments of fortification.