The Morning Light Finds Me

I wake slowly—
not quite ready for the day.

I find my way to the coffee maker,
more by habit than intention,
and pour a mug of steaming coffee.

As I stir in the cream,
I begin to soften
and settle into my corner—
a quiet nest on the sofa closest to the window.

Snuggled in a blanket,
the world is still deciding what it will be.

And I wait.

Not for anything urgent—
just for the light.

It comes gently,
slipping through the window in soft gold,
warming the room,
warming me.

Outside, the bougainvillea catches it first—
bright, impossible blooms,
glowing as if they’ve been waiting too.

Good morning, they seem to say.

I smile now,
and the day begins.

Is there a quiet moment—even a small one—where your day begins?