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.