Mornings

The leaf-shadows are dancing gently on the grass and a warm breeze sighs across my face, hinting at picnics or ball games in the park. The air tastes like holidays and front-lawn sprinklers. Neighbours are smiling, like the sunshine has slipped into them, and is filling them up from the inside, escaping back into the world through the small cracks between their teeth.

My feet carry me along the dew-covered grass, to the gravelled driveway of the house with the dog whose head is too small for its body. She has a loud bark for such a tiny thing and races to the fence each time I journey past, to yap her hellos to me, over and over.

A slow stream of cars forces me to pause at the kerb, waiting for them to pass. Range rovers and utes, hatchbacks and vans all slowly amble past, in as much hurry to reach their destination as I am to reach mine.

Silverware cuts through the leisurely breakfasts of tourists filling up tables at the bakery. A line of tradesmen snakes out the door as lunch orders are placed and breakfast pies picked up.

Rounding the corner next to the art gallery, the sun disappears behind the buildings and the warmth stored in my clothing soon gives way to the cool chill of a shadowed morning street.

I wave hello to the newsagent and the real estate man, give a smile to the lady on her way to the post office, and to the bus driver, waiting at the crossing for me to pass.

I step into my office building and feel the sunlight slide off my shoulders again. I trudge slowly up the winding staircase to my desk, already counting the hours left until 5pm, where I will walk home beneath the tired, orange sun, and watch it dusk up the sky over a glass of wine.

Advertisements

One thought on “Mornings

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s