Pale Sun Filters
Wellington Morning No. 1

Pale sun filters
Down the hallway.
From the bedroom,
Door swung open,
I can see sunflower walls
Glowing softly.
Quiet and birdsong.
As I reach the door
The sun rises over the horizon,
Pink hues on mountains
Softness and peace.
Sleeping in would be a waste
This day begs for involvement.
It invites me to walk
Barefoot through
Damp long grass,
Laced with onion weed,
To stand at the top of the garden -
Look down on the roof
And on Newtown spread
Sleeping below us.
Moments of solitude,
Contemplation.
Both aching to stay still,
And fidgeting to get on and do.
A grey tail
Bobs towards me
Sleek fur against ankle.
Together we sit,
Just this moment,
Still.