I love mornings.


I begin getting excited about them the night before, while setting my coffee pot.


I love the way my feet are the first thing in the house to touch the ground. I love the cold chill that runs down my body as I leave the warmth of the comforter.


I love how I can smell the coffee wafting back to my bedroom and the deafening quiet and how my books of poetry wait dutifully by my chair.

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