Fresh from my dreams I tread the dawn: hair mussed, voice froggy, sleep seeds not yet swept away—a rumpled pilgrim in love with the musky morning.
Heading east with my shadow trailing behind; Florence claims that the dog days are over, but Florida disagrees, smiling behind her frizzy hair; a curtain of humidity presenting hazy visions—the possibilities are endless.
My sensitive feet carry every bit of the load, and still; He keeps me waiting. I remember the thrill, biting my lip on the way up, and then screaming on the way down, “More more more!”
I discover Zen Cat Jr. spying from the fauna. Perhaps he has a fortune for me; Zen Cat Sr. lives at the base of the volcano. I miss that feral feline.
Fortune or misfortune, my secrets are kept, my steps inevitable, as I bold the a.m. asphalt. It’s always a mixed bag, a dizzying array of sunrise selections. I decide on the Daily Special: clouds iced in silver, perfect for dunking in the morning dew.
