After decades of leaping out of bed at the command of a screeching alarm clock, Fiorella enjoys the luxury of awakening on her own--slowly. Not yet opening her eyes, she gradually becomes aware of the morning. Her back arches a couple of times, her arms stretch out, her fingers curl and uncurl, her legs and toes do the same, her hips rotate, she moves her head back and forth, and, finally, she opens her eyes.
Then shuts them again. She doesn't want to wake up, to leave the comfort of this soft, warm bed and the big dog snoring at her feet.
But her body is rarin' for action. She opens her eyes again and sits up.
Rise, Fiorella. Rise, arise shine. Every dawn is a new day.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment