With the smallest hush of light , I'm beginning to hear the song of morning chanting it's low cadence far off in the distance. The first crackling of dawn. As I have come to savor this early time, I will try not to disturb the night too much from it's rustling sleep. A cup of coffee at the table hopefully will not jiggle its shoulder too sharply. An egg or two in a pot may not arouse it too much. I will take Manna outside for a moment, my bare feet keeping light so not to ruffle night's feathered back. Anything to extend this silent time, before all of the day's ebb and flow over runs me.
Manna now snoozing, head on lap. Rumors of possible invisible squirrels or rabbits to chase through the light and shadow, and the leaping joy of a frizbee in the air may be running through her half awakening state. Like a baby shark, she will later be cruising through the house, eyes intently tuned to her next prey of a nice chewsome shoe, mislaid approachable sweater, or a table cloth that's easily pulled to send whatever is on top askew across the kitchen floor.
Reluctantly I will soon have to turn over the reigns of repose, and check out of Hotel Kanji (Japanese symbol for tranquility). But I will try to hold this quiet pearl in my hand as long as I can this morning, and maybe slip one into Manna's paw while she's still sleeping and see if she holds on for a while.
I doubt it though, she has busy things to do.