for the first ten minutes of my yoga practice
I hear Shelby scratching at the door, miaowing,
and then she stops;
afterwards I open the door and
there she is
waiting

my blurry morning eyes open to a dazzling light
beaming through the skylight
slowly my vision clears:
it is a perfect crescent moon

my unmade bed
its sheets still warm, the pillows squished,
invites me to crawl back in
I do, even though it's 7.10am and Tuesday is waiting

country market

a sliver of chocolate and ginger fudge
the aroma of freshly brewed coffee
fresh vegetables in a rainbow display
muddy grass beneath my jandalled feet
the happy strum of ukeleles
a feast for all five senses

the three of us huddle under the wide umbrella
but diagonal rainfall soaks our shoes, knees, shoulders;
in the dry comfort of the car
we sit for a while in our damp clothes
and watch raindrops race down the windscreen

fingers hit keys
black words appear on bright screen
I hit backspace to remove them
feeling uninspired and stuck
nothing flows

I drift in and out of sleep aware of a steady downpour
in the morning the world is clean and new and bright
grateful for the blessing of rain