rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Morning

The cat leaves her window sill perch, her nose parting the drapes, and drops to the desk where she sits for a moment, yawning. Her arrival indicates that she has had enough of watching the night turn pale, and she is ready for sleep. If I don't make down the bed within a few minutes, she will begin to nag. The cat is the one who makes me go to bed. If not for her, I would lose track of time and never get to sleep before full dawn.

The silence of the unawakened street is broken by the car which brings the newspaper. As it turns in the driveway, its headlights flash across the drapes. When I go out to fetch the paper, the flowers have regained the color lost by night, and birds are beginning to chirp. I don't read the headlines. One does not read such things before sleep. I want the purring of cats and the song of birds in my dreams, and the bursting buds and rustling leaves, not the doings of men.
Subscribe

  • Reset Thirty-Five, Day Fourteen

    Monday was sunny but cool, and I've sat here for two hours nodding off without thinking of a singe pertinent thing to say. I've been very tired, and…

  • Reset Thirty-Five Day Thirteen

    Sunday got very, very wet. It was raining when I went to sleep around eight o'clock in the morning and raining when I got up around four o'clock in…

  • Reset Thirty-Five, Day Twelve

    Saturday was grey anticipation, the cool air expectant, the tentative showers like a tease. Not until nightfall did the rain really begin, and then…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments