Getting up to pull back the curtains,
push up the heavy glass windows,
hearing the birds chirp,
cars honking,
and feeling the cool, fresh breeze.
Breath.

Rub those sleepy eyes.
Yawn for one last time.
The hardwood floor is cooling to the touch of bare feet.
Blankets don't want to let go.
Breath.

Coffee is brewing.
Slip out of the silky jumper.
Clean off last night's cosmetic stains.
White tee, jeans, and converse.
Radio is playing songs that call for driving.
Breath.

Travel mug, keys, phone, and sunglasses in hand.
Car clicks open.
Windows roll down.
Yesterday's LuckyStrike scent lingers still.
Breath.

Camera bag is in the back seat.
Not a cloud in sight.
The roads are endless.
Breath.

Breathing is easier today.
It's a perfect Sunday morning.