A quiet winter morning

I wake early today, in time for the very first signs of the morning twilight. Venus still shines brightly, a familiar dawn friend, a single buoy in the bay bleeps dutiful green.  Seagulls are already hovering and squawking incessantly. A few sparse gray clouds hang in the deep dark blue air. Palm trees flutter gently in the sea breeze as the waves make a satisfying hiss. Streetlights add a synthetic tint to the immediate surroundings around my apartment’s balcony. My fingers tingle in the crisp air.  I take a sip of a hastily made cinnamon coffee. A perfect drink to brew, sip and hold in cold hands, perfect for an early morning start in pristine air. Coffee coats the mouth with a mildly fumy, aromatic spice taste. I look up to the sky and see a single aeroplane contrail, high enough to made silver by the sun, which is lurking undetected behind the horizon, ready to spill forth the day in all it’s fluorescent prestige.

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