Wafting love

Rich dark coffee steams, wafting love. The sound of familiar soft feet dashing up cedar steps is my daily relief, knowing he’s safe. His tabby lost to gray in the near dark. “Good morning, good morning, good morning. Is this my kitty?” I hold him like a baby rubbing his soft fur neck. Crickets’ rhythm radiates and sets this morning’s tone while a single edgy crow blasts caws over cricket din. “How was your night? Did you have any adventures?” I kiss his head and set him free.  Alone I retreat to the awakening day.  Three distinct bird songs play over the cricket beat while illumination creep reveals cotton-ball clouds. A winged orchestra tunes, filling the stillest of still as sky streaks welcoming pink. Rich dark coffee steams, wafting love 

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