Morning Rituals

My eyes, still heavy, anticipating another false promise of an early night. 

At the other end of the pull, the stillness of an early morning, the softness of the sleepy human spirit, the gravelly sound of striking a match, the familiar smell of incense, the comfort of my hot drink. The meditative act of a morning ritual, the hope of a new day. 

I float, like a bird. I think, yes, I can.