Morning

The sky moves from black to violet to red to pink

As the slightly cool breeze hits the cheek

A rooster cries and birds chitter

My old cat demands to be fed

A newspaper thunks on the stoop

I think that dew on the grass has a scent

The evidence is clear that I am still alive.

I know this will be a good day

Because it is yet another day I have been given.

I know that whatever happens

Morning will arrive tomorrow

Looking and feeling very much like today

And entirely indifferent to our petty measures

Of What constitutes a good or a bad day.

The sun’s message is that they are all good days