I wake
to the soft orchestra of rain
outside my window
which is open wide.
The smell of the wet earth and coffee
filling my lungs.
A hazy gray light pours into my room
as I wipe the sleep from my eyes
lifting myself up
from the warm bed
into the cold morning
I emerge
from the deep chambers
to the newspaper
and the tinkling of rain
on the back porch
I pour myself a cup
of the rich black liquid
breathing in its rich scent
then,
sit,
closing my eyes and listening
to the sounds of nature
surrounding me
the rain,
a symphony
and the wind in the trees,
the conductor
swaying as they create the music
that fills my ears
Every rainy morning
