In dawn’s wakeful eye,

Birds sound,

The rustle of wind through trees,

Creaking bed, perhaps,

Then restless gasps, morning arrives,

Slow sound footsteps across wood tiles,

The fresh air makes little sound

Invigorates the waking soul to breathe, stretch,

Survey the sun or cloud cover,

Cabin sounds turn to cupboards,

Soft melody of a woman’s hum,

Pans and coffee put into place to begin,

Sizzle of bacon,

The smell cannot be seen but is inviting,

Humming continues,

Eggs cracking, bread bag opening,

A dog tacks nails across the wood,

Curious growl to the world

Outside the air is still,

Yet, we are here in the wood, waiting …