Morning

As I wake up in the morning there is no sunshine

greeting me from the cracks in the curtain.

I stretch out of bed and slide into my slippers,

getting up to peer out the window.

The fog is so thick I’m unable to see the pond down the hill,

covering the earth like a blanket.

Tiptoeing down the hallway

I make my way downstairs,

avoiding the creaks and squeaks.

Then start the kettle and pour my cup of tea.

Out on the rocking chair I’m accompanied

by the birds singing perched right next to me

After I finish the last drop I begin to make my stroll down the hill

The fog is now a canopy over me,

sticks and leaves crinkle as I walk over them

I hear the stream trickle down the hill to the pond

Taking the same path as I am

Something stirs upon my arrival,

but I’m unable to make out what it is through the thicket

Slowly I make my way closer and the white creature seen through the cracks reveals to be a swan