Morning boulders

The waking smell of pending rain,
flavoured with coffee and the chatter of birds.
Listen to the soundtrack of thunder,
these tremors, I imagine,
gradually rumble me from my slumber.

Heavy arms, and steamed up blankets,
not even the morning tea can tempt me
from this orange comfort. My nose
tastes the cold world. Shudder. This is
my cue to retreat. [snuggle deeper]

I welcome the rumble that set me awake,
and the paced drumbeat of rain featuring
window. There is bliss found in the moment
I have left. Till my heart is reminded of the
boulder I am paid to roll up a hill.


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