In the Tiptoe Moments

I see the point of a soft pink triangle that cuts between two pine trees to the southeast, and a sparrow lands on a bare branch just outside my window. I peel back the Target-bought shabby chic quilt, the white one striped with pink roses, and slide from between crisp white sheets, careful to not disturb the cat curled next to me. I slip on my fluffy white robe, pocket the Droid, and creep downstairs in search of slippers.

I love the tiptoe moments of the morning.

To be continued over at today. Won’t you tiptoe over?


    • Sandra says

      And I think one had to be present at just the right moment. Isn’t that the way we see a lot of things, though? Just by showing up? By being present?