“Early Sunrise” glows yellow under the blue of my bottle tree

Up at four today. At 6:30, I kiss my still-abed husband and go out onto the back deck.

The sun is not yet up but it is light enough for me to see that the shoots I transplanted yesterday have survived.

The cool air carries the sound of waking birds. A pigeon walks, silhouetted, along the telephone line.

When it half-jumps, half-flies to the telephone pole, the wire dances.

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