mornings

The day dawns and the juices flow and I think "so here I am." morning coffee, oh but the smell of that first brew. An ommetje, what beauty the birds are singing.

Home and then it's monty, wanting his walj, morning cuddle morning patrol. More often than not there's an invader of our quiet life, two heroes cast to the wind. Se he duky barks at the truck or the nearby dog. 

Then I myself am back out, in nature, in a nomads zone, with the sweet recollection of aman beyond compare. Romance always softens the road. 

A comfortable ensemble to be wearing and a cosy hat for morning hair. Then it's pancakes or something of the sort. So goes my morning part of the day.