Fog, goat’s beard, spirea, mint. The chickens (Daisy, Stripey, Sukey) cluck about in the yard, shitting on pathways. The children (Avah, Owen) sleep under open windows with fans. The wood thrush that lives in the great white pine to the north between the house and the road sings his/her thing. He/she is my friend and early morning companion. The tea (black, strong, sweet) makes my heart race it its familiar and delightful way. My feet (bony, calloused) rest on porch boards and this early, don’t ache. My mother (short, strong, thin) is no doubt up and about in her garden on the hill across the creek. If we cut more trees I could see her over there, steadfast, determined, bending in the bright green mist.