Spring Mornings

I wake each day
to the sun shining
brightly through
the curtains of our
bedroom.
I turn over, say
‘Good morning, babe. ‘
to my wife.

Then I sleepily walk
downstairs, pour a
saucer of milk for our
beautiful black cat,
Ebony, as she purrs,
and purrs, and purrs
rubbing around my
ankles.
I make my coffee so
strong that the spoon
could stand up in it,
pour my wife a glass
of fresh orange juice,
and walk back upstairs
to watch TV.

I roll a cigarette, pull
the smoke hungrily
down into my lungs.
Just like the first drink of
the day, the first cigarette
is the best.
On weekdays there’s
nothing but comedies
on until nearly midday.
‘ Cheers’, ‘ Everybody
Loves Raymond’, then a
hour and a half of ‘ Frasier.’
It’s fantastic to slowly
wake to the sound of
laughter.
As long as it’s not aimed
at you.

I love the mornings, the
day is fresh, still alive with
promise.
It could be the best day of
your life.
Nothing has happened
yet to spoil it.
Yet.

I think that sunny, early
mornings may be the happiest
I ever get.