Monday, May 4, 2026, 34.5* F, 95% RH, 0646
0455 Stream like silver, horizon blue orange like paintings of canyons. As the three moved, lights came on shining in my eyes forcing my view back to the fenced-in-land. It was only when I turned from the railing that I realized the deck was slippidy, shining with frost, heavy frost. From the quiet, a Chickadee greets unseen. Door open after 0600 the three don’t go outside, they wait while I pour water into the pot, get a cup, press buttons. Fog rises from the moving stream like steam from the furnace vent in winter. Winter Wren is the only voice, above the hum of Monday morning traffic.
Day begins with what we choose to see.
Photo: LJ Austin
