Morning Star

Greeting the dark part of dawn, a single light hangs above the trees as I wrap myself in an old fleece blanket I stopped using when I moved into a house where the heat cranks all night long.  Its too hot, I wake with my mouth full of dirt or after dreaming of eating my pillow.  Blessed Be this day.  I take a deep breath from the edge of the deck, my head turned to the sky.

Come on dogs, I say.

I sip my clove, ginger and honey tea.

It is quiet, and I take the time to view the blog that I have wanted to savor for days, but the sound of the TV drowns out the sounds that bring me peace.  It is quiet, except for the dogs arguing over a bone, she wants the one he has, he wants both.  Just dominance, just dominance.

Cup two.

Puppy in crate.  I have removed a rock, a shell, another shell, and my power cord from her mouth and gently replaced each with a bone, a toy, a leather chew, a rope, a less contentious bone.  I give up.

I know I should take the morning to clean.  I dread the roaring bull as it faces carpet foam, or an object out of place.

Hoarding in real life, is not the same as hoarding on TV.  Its less disgusting, and more dramatic.

I yearn for serenity.  I yearn for peace.  I yearn for open spaces and brightly lit rooms.

I wait for the right timing.

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