Coffee and Dog Ears


Morning time arrives at my front porch, in our part of the high desert land, where the sun has begun its lengthy journey westward. Dark blue turns gray. It is here, that I enjoy a piping hot cup of coffee in one hand and with the other, the soft-fur ears of my dog. We shall sit in this early freeze below 30 degrees, each surrounded in vapor-puffs of our own smoke-breath, and look for the bright orange bloom of a new day. What adventures await us today?

raven calls from tree
good morning to the sunshine
let me drink you in

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