Vannie Writes

The soul of a poet. The spirit of a warrior.

Solitude

That time of day when there is only you and God's earth.
 
Solitude.

Awakening at dawn just before the sun rises. Step outside with coffee in hand,

feet bare onto the grass damp with morning dew.

The fresh morning chill hangs in the still air smelling softly of mimosa, rain and earth;

Solitude.

Breath in deeply to make it a part of your soul. Suddenly,

birds chirp. Sounding sharp and abrasive in the vacuum silence of the morning.

You watch as family cats returning home from wherever they go at night, and

whatever it is that cats do at night and feral cats as they dance around and around each other.

Ready to duel for first dibs on the birds.

No sounds are made;

they stop. Ears swiveling as they listen, then with backs arched, stalk.

You stand quietly and watch. Your money is on the birds.

Dawn breaks as the sun starts to rise, the birds fly away and the cats go their separate ways

. . . until the next time.

A distant car horn, a baby cries.


Solitude is broken.


It's time to start your day.


 

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