Waking by Anna Kingston

Bedroom curtains breathe in and out, in and out, in perfect rhythm with the cool, early morning breeze.

Bathroom fan clatters discordantly in the same gusts of air.

Enough hazy light to make out the shape of the sleeping man next to me, gently snoring.

Magpies argue their way into the morning, and the kinder sound of blackbirds heartily greet the day, early spring heralds in their shiny black cloaks.

A half-asleep child in the next room sneezes several times, and then settles.

Cat leaps daintily onto my bed, picks her way through the hills and valleys of our limbs underneath the quilt; delicately and urgently pushes her cool nose under my hand, demanding attention.

Child two out of bed, in the bathroom, water running and radio playing quietly - for him. Pokes his head around my door, mumbles something that faintly resembles ‘morning’, and thumps downstairs in that half-awake, teenage-boy way.

Early-rising neighbour over the road drives off to his postie job, and next door piles his dog into the car to take the eager pup for a morning run - the dog’s joyful yapping carries in the still, clear air.

This not-quite-spring Saturday morning gears up into sleepy action, still too cold and early in the year for the lawn-mowers, seed-sowers, and laundry-hangers.

But still beautiful to me.

Anna M. Kingston

February 2021