Good {Gray} Morning

Weekday mornings are cold. I need to trick myself into exposing skin to air. I am most mindful. Every inch of me–mind, body, and spirit– is aware. Warm. Quiet. Still.

Behind the closed blinds, there is a gray light. I tell myself it’s good to be comfortable. I allow myself to be absorbed. I can close my eyes. But when the gray light brightens, it’s over. That’s about the time the cats want their breakfast. Life calls.

The kitchen is still in shadow and the floor is cool. I stoop to open the cupboard beneath the window. The cats run in to the farthest corner of the dark cupboard as I scoop the food. I fill a mug of water for my coffee. I leave the cupboard door open so they can run out. Cat noses are soon buried in bowls. And while I wait for my water to heat I water the basil plant. Every day I turn it just a little so that all the leaves have a chance to face the sun.

I almost stumble–
two beggar cats underfoot,
a good gray morning

{It took me a few days to find the right moment to write about this topic. I have mixed feelings about mornings lately. This haibun is for the Good Morning! dVerse prompt.}

Music at Work

Sometime around midday, I pause.

My mahogany desk is so shiny. It’s always marred by fingerprints.

Beyond this dark wood is a wall of brightness. A live background mural of clouds and sky and trees. Silent and untouchable. No one who is busy with accounting notices.

I can’t help but study the living movement of the palm fronds. I hope no one sees me.

My co-worker is blaring gaudy pop songs for the whole office to hear. But I have my own music– a soaring melody for listening ears only.

I imagine this…
slender leaves are fingers
playing piano.

{This is my first attempt at haibun. I didn’t have one about dusk, which is the dVerse haibun prompt this week, so I am going to use this for Open Link Night #218. }