In the distance the sound of a rooster waking is heard. The sound of his cry echoes in an omnipresent sort of way, reassuring me that the day, in fact, has begun. Whether or not he is happy about it has been the debate for some time. At that very same moment, a male cardinal leaps up into a batch of bird seed laid out especially for him, in feeder erected like that of an alter. I watch him as he does a nervous dance for food, making me wonder if he ever truly gets a break from the impeding danger of being a bird. I understand his plight when an orange feline springs from the bushes and lands at my feet. I look up to find the bird as he wants me to see him, gone. I second guess his presence and wonder if he was ever there.
It is silent. Leaves dance a soft waltz until hitting the ground without a sound. The lion next to me sleeps, not caring if I or anyone else is there to notice. This is comforting for me, for in this moment it is my desire to be unnoticed, transcended past solitude. Self-reliance is my breakfast, energized by a bold black coffee growing cold in the winter air. The sun has little hope of breaking through the clouds today, yet there is an odd purplish hue casting light on the blanket of browns and reds covering the grass.
The air is heavy and carries a robust smell of wood through the yard, hitting me between the eyes and embedding in my thoracic cavity. I seem to be anchored to the steps in which I sat so freely on minutes ago. There is an exhale of responsibly translating into white clouds of breathe fading quickly into the morning. A lady bug has made camp on the leg of my pants and I admire her audacity. The Lady would surely make home of where it pleases, and where ever she may be.
The rooster crows for the third time, and I take this as a sign of biblical proportions. I retreat into the dwelling that I will, for now, call my home.
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